


Going Underground

by AphroditesTummyRolls



Series: We Stan a Healthy Family Dynamic (The Kes-verse) [5]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: FUCK THEY ALL DESERVED BETTER, Finn Deserved Better, Finn's Background, Gen, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Not Canon Compliant - Star Wars: The Last Jedi, Poe Dameron Needs A Hug, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rose Tico Deserved Better, The Kes-verse, We Stan a Healthy Family Dynamic, Yavin Culture and History, Yavin IV, the in-between fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-14
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:14:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 70,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23143750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AphroditesTummyRolls/pseuds/AphroditesTummyRolls
Summary: The aftermath of Episode VIII: The Battle of the Force, told through loosely connected oneshots as the last shreds of the Resistance attempt to rebuild. Finn is trying to make sense of the evermore vivid dreams about his mother's death, growing more and more desperate for closure. Poe is learning more and more about himself, what it means to be home, and how he wants to live his life. Rey is lost in her failure in VIII, unsure of where she belongs or what she should be.This is part five in a larger series-- in order to understand this, you should read those first, but you don't HAVE to read this to understand the other stories in the verse coming after this. <3
Relationships: Finn & Rey (Star Wars), Kes Dameron & Luke Skywalker, Kes Dameron & Poe Dameron, Leia Organa & Luke Skywalker, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Poe Dameron & Finn, Poe Dameron & Finn & Rey & Rose Tico, Poe Dameron & Jessika Pava & Temmin "Snap" Wexley, Poe Dameron & Leia Organa, Poe Dameron & Rey, Poe Dameron/Finn, Shara Bey/Kes Dameron
Series: We Stan a Healthy Family Dynamic (The Kes-verse) [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1598431
Comments: 223
Kudos: 68





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome back! Long time, no update! 
> 
> This is just the start of what is going to be a HUGE undertaking-- 20 chapters. Yes, I know, it's ridiculous. The chapters are gonna be a little shorter, though, so it'll be easier for all of us haha!
> 
> That all being said, though, you don't HAVE to read this one in order to understand the Rise of Skywalker rewrite or the finale fic after it. The only real PLOT in this is Finn's quest to find his Mama, and I'll post which chapters those are so you can get the condensed version if you want, after this one is done. Everything else in this fic is Yavin culture, a little family drama, some BIGGER family drama, and a whole lot of trauma and healing interspersed with some fluff. These are the little character moments, but there's nothing in here that won't also be handled in the ROS Rewrite.
> 
> Still, I hope you read this, and I hope you like it. It's a little different than anything else I've written in this verse. 
> 
> As always, let me know what you think! Your comments are what inspire me to keep writing!
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything in this Star Wars sandbox! None of these characters are my creative property. Disney and Lucasfilm are the owners of this universe, and I am simply writing for my own enjoyment. I DO NOT MAKE ANY MONEY OFF OF MY WRITING.

_Poe wasn’t sure what it was like when they broke through the atmosphere into Yavin IV. He didn’t watch through the Falcon’s wide front window as the familiar jungles passed by in a blur of green underneath them, and he couldn’t pick out the roof of home from the surrounding grasses as they came in for a landing._

_The first thing he saw as he came to, bleary and aching, was Finn. They’d fallen asleep right where they were, pressed shoulder to shoulder at the holochess table, Poe’s head on Finn’s shoulder. It took him a sluggish moment to recall why his hand had its own throbbing pulse, and why Finn’s soft, dark skin was pockmarked with strange cuts, glistening with bacta._

_The second thing he saw, swallowing against the rush of memories filling his fuzzy mind, must have been a hallucination._

_In the center of his vision, as his friends started disembarking, was Kes. His dad studied him from across the cabin, ashen and pale. His face was drawn with concern and older than Poe had ever seen him. He stood frozen in the threshold to the gangway, staring in at Poe where he had been so blissfully unconscious before._

_Kes looked as if he’d seen a ghost. His eyes were swimming, even from their current distance-- Poe could see the telltale rapid blinking and wobbly set of his lips. He had a white-knuckled grip on the wall beside him, like it was the only thing keeping him upright._

_Poe tried to speak, opening his mouth and closing it again, his tongue too heavy to form words and his throat too sore from the past several hours of torture._

_Luke and Leia were the last to go, ushering Rose and Rey out into the daylight. Finn was still passed out by his side, his heavy head coming to rest on his shoulder when Poe shifted to try and reassure his petrified dad._

_Just before the three of them were left in silence, Luke reached out. He barely made contact with Kes’s shoulder, though, before he seemed to regain the ability to move. He yanked himself back from the Jedi’s touch, his grip on the wall releasing lightning-fast, and this must’ve been some type of dream. There was no way that Kes Dameron was going to hit Luke Skywalker. There was no way that Leia would have to catch him by the wrist and hiss “Please, Kes. He’s trying to do the right thing.”_

_Poe blinked owlishly, feeling terribly alone and disconnected from reality._

_He finally brought himself to move, pressing an awkwardly angled kiss to Finn’s hair and lightly shaking him awake._

_Finn cried out as his eyes shot open, and Poe should have expected that, but he still jumped. He jostled his aching bones and wheezed with the pain, punching the air out of his lungs._

_Luke and Leia were gone, and that was when Kes finally moved._

_“Are you boys alright?”  
_

_Finn whimpered, his voice breaking as he tried to speak, only managing a weak nod._

_Poe huffed a breathless laugh, humorless and bitter. He couldn’t believe it was real-- Kes was knelt in front of him, trembling and exhausted and somehow full of manic energy. Poe felt unhinged. He didn’t know if he was going to start sobbing, throw up, or shake right out of his skin._

_Kes was really there, right in front of him. His big, familiar hands guided him up from his seat and helped him to stand. Poe leaned heavily into his dad’s side as he helped Finn out, breathing in the smell of humid jungle air and laundry detergent._

_He remembered very little about the long walk from the Falcon to his childhood home. To his old bedroom. Finn refused to leave his side, and Poe didn’t blame him. The idea of being separated again felt too much like the tiny cells they’d been kept in, and made Poe’s gut flip with anxiety._

_It wasn’t until the two of them were all properly fixed up-- the Doc muttering about Rose’s “job well done” on his hand, and Finn was sleeping fitfully again on Poe’s tiny childhood mattress-- that Poe came out of his haze. He looked up at the threshold and saw his dad standing in silent vigil._

_“What happened, Kiddo?”_

_He didn’t even know where to start._

_He’d tell him one day. But for right then, there was only one thing that Poe could manage. With every last bit of his energy, he heaved himself off the edge of the bed and took three, uneven steps. Kes met him halfway, scolding him about his busted knee even as he pulled Poe in tight to his chest._

_Poe didn’t care about his screaming ribs or the shaking in his bones, letting out a long, shuddering breath as Kes’s hand tenderly carded through his filthy hair and held him together while he shook apart._

It was odd to be home. It was odd from the second they landed, but Poe had hoped the feeling of being an _imposter_ , being _changed_ , would have faded at some point.

Maybe he had underestimated just how long he had been away. It had been a decade since he was home for longer than a week at a time. He made it to festivals when he could, and he made sure to visit when he was on leave, and when he could spare the time for birthdays and the anniversary of Mom… 

It had been 10 years since he joined the New Republic Navy, and 3 since Leia had lost faith in the Senate’s ability to snuff out the First Order. When the news had first broken about the _Princess and her tantrum_ on Coruscant, Poe had been the first to sign up for her cause. _Tantrum--_ kriffing politicians, he supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised. When had a government ever been able to face tyranny without becoming it?

He hadn’t been home for a substantial amount of time for years, but whenever he had managed to visit, it had always still felt like _home_. 

Until then. He had the grasses of Dameron Fields under his bloodstained boots-- the boots that he could swear still had Jakku sand caked into the toes-- but the feeling of _belonging_ was all but gone. 

Sometimes he would just sit under the Force Tree and try to hear his mother. 

Even she seemed silent. 

_“We’ve only been back for two weeks, Poe”_ Finn had reminded him when he’d finally managed to spit out the shameful, confused feelings on the tip of his tongue _“You’re adjusting, and things are different. Spend some time with your dad, go to the family temple-- I’ll go with you? If you want?”_

Sweet Finn. His eyes were sharp and intelligent, looking Poe up and down with all the concern in the galaxy. Poe felt that concern, too, every time he woke up in the night to Finn, chest heaving and body shaking beside him as he woke up from another nightmare. 

Finn had deep circles under his eyes. The only times Poe really felt at home lately was when he managed to help Finn finally fall asleep. His head in his lap, stroking his thumb across the pulse point just under his jaw. They were quiet moments-- moments where Poe could rest assured that he could do one thing right. He could take care of the person he loved. 

Even the threshold to his own home-- so far removed from the Star Destroyer he still saw in his mind’s eye-- seemed too small. As if it didn’t want him to fit inside. 

“Dameron Jr.” Poe knew he must finally be starting to really look like himself again when Dr. Kalonia was back to cycling through her repertoire of nicknames. It felt nice to be treated so normally, “You manage to rest long enough to heal that hand?” 

“You know me, Doc-- I’m so good at sitting still and relaxing.” he gave her his most convincing grin, and winked at Rose when she snorted a laugh. 

“We’ll be sure to send your sweet lieutenant something nice for keeping you in line.” Kalonia smirked wryly, gesturing him into the room that had become the main medbay since landing on Yavin-- coincidentally, it was his childhood bedroom. The whole house had been converted into a medbay and command center since Kes and his transport landed. 

His old model ships were still collecting dust on the bookshelf, in the exact formation he’d left them in at the age of twelve. The weathered old family photo was still in its frame by the small bed, and the morning sun streamed in his window the same way it always had. 

Trying to school his expression into something that didn’t give away how weird it all was, Poe sat on the edge of his old mattress and let Rose take his left hand, no longer broken. She was efficient and gentle, releasing the traction and bacta flow that had been continually administered by the contraption holding his bones in place. 

Until just last week, General Hux’s bootprint had remained a black and blue reminder of everything that had happened. Why Poe’s hand was shattered, and why he wasn’t fit or deserving enough to lead, and why Finn woke up in the night, and why the galaxy always felt like it was teetering at the edge of collapse-- 

“How’s Finn doing?” Rose asked, pulling him back into reality. 

“He’s… yeah, Finn’s okay.” Poe struggled, walking the line of what was his to share, “Sleeping well is a rare thing, but… He’s coping.” _we’re coping_ , he thought to himself, _we are, even if it doesn’t always feel like it_. He swallowed around the acrid tang of shame that still bubbled just under the surface of him. He smiled, trying to dazzle the two women away from asking any more questions. He cleared his throat and changed the damn subject “He misses you. We never see you around anymore.” 

It was Rose’s turn to swallow around a hard lump in her throat, and Poe could see the gears turning in her mind. She released the last restraint on his cast, and the silence was broken by the hiss of air freeing him. 

His hand showed no sign of what Hux had done. 

It was like it never happened. Somehow, it didn’t feel better to think about that. 

“Rose?” 

“There’s a lot going on around here-- staying well stocked with the First Order on our doorstep, making sure the supplies stay hidden in case your land gets inspected… and then there’s all the people who still need treatment after the Ambush--”

She wasn’t meeting his gaze, and Poe could feel his friend’s hackles rising. She poked his finger a touch too hard while checking the reflexes and nerve endings in his healed hand, gripping him a little tighter than necessary to keep him in place. 

Her jaw was set and her brow was furrowed. She looked a lot like Paige when she did that. Poe’s heart twisted in his chest. 

As soon as she let go, he reached out and took her hand in his, using it properly for the first time in two long weeks. Rose finally flicked her gaze up to meet his, and he smiled as non-threateningly as possible. 

“We’re all busy, Rose. But, we’re your friends, and we need proof of life every once in a while. We all--”

“I get it, Poe.” she cleared her throat, her voice a little choked. “Your hand looks good-- should be just fine, but if you feel any pain between those second and third metacarpals again, come back in. You might be unable to avoid the shot.” 

He nodded, squeezing her fingers in his one last time before he walked back out, leaving behind the model ships and the tiny bed and the layer of dust that covered his past. He sent the Doc a meaningful look, hoping she’d be watching her assistant’s back.

Her face was as cryptic as ever, but the twist of her mouth was thoughtful, studying Rose’s back as she cleaned up the remains of Poe’s cast. She winked at him, and Poe nodded, hoping they both meant the same thing.

Stepping back out into the height of Yavin’s dry season sunlight, Poe finally took a deep breath, flexing his hand and clenching it into a tight fist, stretching his fingers. He felt a little freer.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! So much for under 3000 words, this one is LONG. But, it covers a lot of time, too. It's important. And I missed writing Kes. My MAN <3 
> 
> As always, let me know what you think! I'm really proud of this one!

_War never really changed. It wasn’t funny, per se, but it never stopped taking Kes’s breath away. There were moments where Kes completely lost track of time and place-- he felt like Han and Lando would be around the corner, or Leia might wink at him from across the hangar when she caught him staring at the beautiful pilot he was too nervous to talk to. War brought people together in that way, he supposed._

_There were also times where he’d walk through the haze of battle, or the aftermath of one to see all the scared, injured_ kids _the galaxy relied on. A lot of them were the kids of people he’d fought with thirty years ago. A lot of them were the bravest, kindest people-- the ones who didn’t come home._

_But he remembered being one of those kids-- with a splint on his leg and a short life expectancy and the weight of a thousand star systems on his shoulders. It made him sick to think that the sacrifices of his generation hadn’t been enough to keep these kids safe. That they’d been robbed of normal lives-- and sometimes, their lives in the most entire sense._

_War never really changed. He supposed it never really ended, either. Shara had understood that, he thought, blinking back tears as he sent his only son off on a dangerous mission-- again. He sent him away on an unreliable ship with a severe concussion, an unconscious general, and the odds stacked against him. Kes had sent his son off into space, and Poe ran the highest possible risk of becoming another kid on the body count-- again._

_He did a headcount on his pitifully empty evac transport as the First Order ambush brought their ship to rubble behind them. He did a headcount and he comm’d Chewie with his short list of survivors, categorized as ‘injured’ and ‘not injured’._

_Between the two transports, there were just short of 50 fighters left in the Resistance. Nearly half were too injured to fight._

_Kes took stock of the kids under his command, and forced himself to take a deep breath. He was in charge. It was his job to get them to safety. He had to find the right coordinates to lay low, to save as many as he could._

_Finally deflating on an exhale, he found that he had a Hell of a shortage of options. They needed someplace where he knew the terrain, someplace they could defend. Considering the amount of injuries on board, they’d need to find as defensible a position as possible-- high ground, remote, few entrances and many exits..._

_At least his transport ended up being the one with Kalonia on it. She moved like a ghost from patient to patient, wrapping burn wounds and using their bacta as sparingly as she could. Her face was pale and sooty, her mouth drawn in a thin line, uncharacteristically quiet._

_She didn’t reply when Kes tried to talk to her-- her usual smirk replaced with a stony, blank stare._

_“We lost nearly the whole medbay…” a kid no older than Finn informed him, seeing the clear question in his face “We had to drag her out of the critical care wing.”_

_“Did anybody make it?” he dared to ask. “Anybody from the medbay at all?”_

_The look on Kalonia’s face gave him his answers, and Kes took his old friend’s clenched fist in his hand and massaged out the muscle while her lip wobbled dangerously. The kid who spoke for her just shook their head._

_“A couple of the patients who were well enough to run, but… even most of the medics are gone.”_

_For a long moment, Kes’s brain was absorbed by numbing static. There was nothing to do, was there? There was certainly nothing to say, no way to make it better. His chest ached, picturing the garden of his home and the tree standing sentinel over his land. He missed home. He wished that he could see in his mind’s eye which way Shara’s breeze was blowing-- that she could give him some kind of sign of what to do._

_She had always been so much better at this than him._

_Giving Kalonia’s hand one last squeeze, he steeled himself to take charge. He owed them all that much-- to the people who’d died beside him in the Rebellion while he survived, and the kids that he fought for now. And for his own son-- for his_ sons. _He closed his eyes, picturing Poe and Finn_.

_Leia put him in charge. He might not think that was the greatest choice in the galaxy, but he forced himself to follow his own advice-- Kes could trust Leia. She hadn’t led him astray yet-- not once since pointing him in Shara’s magnetic direction._

_Chewie was headed to Coruscant. To Lando and help and a bustling cityscape to hide in._

_And Kes set a course for Yavin, a plan already forming in the map of his mind of the best routes to safety and the best places to hide. Where best to put a medbay, and how to house all of these kids-- the last hope of the galaxy._

_He wasn’t sure about how to be the best leader, but he knew how to make things better when the worst case became reality-- he’d been doing that since Luke Skywalker walked up to his garden gate. He’d been doing it for nearly 20 years._

* * *

They had always wanted a big family-- Shara talked about it all the time when she was pregnant with Poe, and even throughout the exhausting first months of their son’s life. Kes could have happily populated all of Yavin IV with little Damerons, if they’d only had a little more sleep and a guaranteed lifetime to live in peace. 

It wasn’t as if the Dameron homestead didn’t have plenty of space. Yavinic family homes were intended to be multi-generational, had been since long before the Rebellion, the genocides, even the Empire. But, when he and Shara had discussed it-- dreaming about a family of big eyes and little, curly heads-- Kes had hardly imagined what it would take to make a home for nearly _25_ bereft Resistance fighters. 

They had hoped that the peace they’d worked for could last. They didn’t think they’d ever need to make a military base out of the walls Kes’s great grandfather had built. 

The farm was old, built between the Sith occupations both before and after the Empire’s rise. Dameron Fields and its farm were at the edge of the jungle-- a family home sitting on the hill where the sun rose in the mornings, with the barn across the way, down by the cave pond. 

He thought they would be safe. At least, for the few days that they would have to hide until they had to meet on Crait, but all that had changed when a party of Stormtroopers showed up on his doorstep. 

_“Vice Admiral Dameron!”_

_He always hated that title-- what had he done for his rank?_

_“Vice Admiral Dameron, a First Order TIE shuttle just broke through the atmosphere.” it was the kid from the transport. The transport that landed out in the open, in the middle of their field with its Rebel insignia emblazoned on the side, while the First Order knocked on their door._

_It had been so long since he’d had to even think about the tunnels._

_“Evacuate the severely injured-- there’s three trapdoors: one through the closet of the bedroom—use that one to get the bed-ridden and too weak to get out, there's no steps. There’s one under the bed, and in the loft behind the loose panel in the shower.” he rattled them off as if he understood them so well-- as if he had ever used them for anything besides a distant childhood playground or a community-wide festival site._

_The kid just stared at him._

_“GO!”_

_Kes could hear the engines-- they didn’t have enough time._

_The kid was looking at him like he’d grown a second head, and he hated that he still didn’t know their name, but by that time, Kalonia came barging into the kitchen where he’d once lived a quiet life and said “I can hear engines-- what’s going on?”_

_“Start getting your most injured into the cellars-- the First Order is here.” he replied, trying to maintain a shred of leadership through the pounding of his heartbeat. What was happening? “I’ll get everybody else underground.”_

_The roar of the TIE shuttle was deafening as he tore through the garden and past his wife’s tree, hurtling down the hill and across the grassy plain to the barn. To where all the others were staying-- the cots were out, the room was hot enough to take the breath out of his lungs. But there was nowhere else to put them all. Was there?_

_“Vice Admiral?”_

_“A party of First Order troopers are nearly on top of us-- I don’t know what’s going on, but you need to hide.” he explained to the scattering of shocked and confused gazes on him “There’s a way-- down here.”_

_There were two trap doors under the old ships gathering dust in the barn-- the ships Poe used to tinker with through his childhood and teens, all the way up until he finally broke it to Kes that he’d enrolled in the Flight Academy. Kes didn't usually go in the barn anymore._

_He swallowed against the wave of anxiety that clawed up through his throat, shaking his head against the feeling that he may never see his boy again._

_He slammed the button to the lift beside his wife’s old A Wing-- still unable to bring himself to look at it straight on, Kes only lifted the old ship high enough to give a clear entry into the tunnels below. He beckoned the others down, their cots shoved hastily into the most thorough hiding places they could find._

_They didn’t have much more time. He couldn’t hear the engines anymore._

_Kes dropped the A Wing back down on top of the door and heaved a premature sigh of relief as he stepped back out into the bright midday sun._

_He should’ve known-- things always got worse before they got better._

_“HEY! You there!”_

_He stopped in his tracks, his gut twisting into knots as the two white-armored soldiers marched his way. The sun glinted off their bright helmets and chest plates, forcing him to squint._

_“What can I do for you… Officers?” He had never tried to be polite to a stormtrooper before-- the feeling was strange and foreign on his tongue._

_“What’s a Resistance transport doing here?”_

_“I…” Kes summoned his most disarming smile, stalling as long as he could manage and wondered what Shara would do. What Poe would say. “I’ve been in town the last fortnight-- I only just got back this morning. I know as much as you do.”_

_The wood of the barn door was hard against his back, and he swore he could hear the whispers of the fighters under the ground-- they were too deep. There was no way._

_“Surprised your organization is this far out here--”_

_“The First Order is everywhere.” the supposed leader of the two cut in, sending a rush of hot blood pounding through Kes’s ears-- the anger was sudden and vile, and he swallowed the acidic retort in his mouth._

_“The base on Yavin III only became operational yesterday--” the other started, only to be swiftly elbowed in the gut with a resounding clack._

_Oh, he thought, zeroing in with a warrior's instinct that had spent decades dormant-- now he knew which one was weak._

_“New base?” Kes kept his face carefully blank, trying not to betray the thousands of questions and scenarios running through his mind “You two must be awful warm in those helmets-- Yavin’s heat isn’t kind this time of year. Why don’t you come up to the house? Refresh yourselves and you can take a look at that nasty old ship later. Yeah?”_

_The house was as empty as the day he’d left it for D’Qar, all those months ago. No bacta syringes, no wrappings, no saline-- there wasn’t a single trace of Kalonia or the patients._

_“I hope you don’t mind the mess-- my son’s grown, and my wife passed on years ago.”_

_There were pictures on every wall, every shelf. It was impossible to take a moment’s glance through the Dameron house and not see that Kes’s son was grown, or that his wife passed on years ago. He swallowed hard as the lead stormtrooper lingered over a picture of Poe, grinning from ear to ear, graduating from the Flight Academy and on his way to the New Republic Starfleet. He was handsome and carefree and unmistakably_ Poe Dameron _._

_“You familiar with The Resistance effort?”_

_“Can’t say I am--” he replied through a suddenly dry throat “D’you gentlemen drink caf?”_

_“With sugar--”_

_“We’ll be out of your hair soon.” said the leader “What did you say your name was?”_

_“Bey.” he blurted out, plastering that smile back in place as he handed cups of water to his guests “Kestrel Bey.”_

_The important thing was that the fighters were safe. The doctor and her patients were safe. He’d given them an adequate distraction; he’d bought them the time they needed._

_The other important thing-- the most important thing, if Kes was perfectly honest-- was the small, white commlink he secured to the inside of the weak one’s helmet as they got up to leave._

_There were two things that Kes Dameron was entirely certain of as he did his best to mask his eagerness in ushering the two stormtroopers off his land. The first was that they were never going to make it to Crait-- there would be no rendezvous when The First Order was so close by. This meant their little moon was under occupation._

_But the second was more hopeful. The second was that they now had a stream of intel pouring in through the comm in Kes’s hand._

_The First Order was weak. And the Resistance would rise again._

* * *

It took four days. There were four standard days between landing on Yavin, and establishing a line of contact with his son and his team. Kes sent holo-message after holo-message, the pit of worry in his gut getting deeper and more hopeless with each passing hour. Four days slipped by, and he devoted himself to getting his little base ready-- for what, exactly, he didn't really know, but he _did_ know that the First Order wasn't about to just leave them alone.

By the time Leia's team finally landed, though, things were pretty well ironed out. Kes liked to think that he had figured out how to run a top-secret base under the nose of the enemy as best he could.

Really, the most important thing was to have someone on lookout. Always.

He organized them into shifts—teams of two to walk the well-worn path through the jungle every 5 standard hours to watch the skies from the old Rebellion lookout post. The one by the abandoned airstrip. Kes didn’t dare use the Great Temple’s old cavern for anything other than a place to hide the ships that could give them away, anxiety gnawing through him at the idea of entering such a dark place—the old temple was a hub of strange, unnerving energy that he hadn’t felt since…

He declared the Great Temple to be largely off limits to his ragtag group, no matter how hard Dr. Kalonia rolled her eyes. She didn’t understand.

His house was still the acting medbay. All the beds were taken up by the sick and the injured, the trapdoors propped open ever since that first day, where they’d become both emergency hatches and supply closets. The kitchen table became his command center. He organized a supply run into town, established contact with Lando and Chewie, and started decoding the snippets of stormtrooper conversation he could pick up through the comm. And the barn became the mess hall. It was too blisteringly hot, the sun too strong to keep sleeping in there. They were coming up on the peak of the dry season, and it would be too much for those who weren’t used to the heat.

So, while the roof of the barn baked and their little hangar managed to catch just enough of a breeze to breathe by, Kes moved the kids. They were underground—down the trapdoor and under several feet of cool earth, in the tunnels of Kes’s ancestors. Through a short corridor under the barn was one of the largest cellars—Poe’s great grandparents and grandparents had lived down there for years, throughout the second Sith occupation, hiding from their lightsabers and their slave trade.

Something in Kes’s chest ached at the parallel, observing the lined-up cots on either side of the wall, with tarps from old ships and parachutes standing as curtains between each person’s space.

Kes’s sleeping space—the “commanding officer’s quarters”—was in the small cellar under the house. It was a welcome reprieve from the keen eyes of his command, a place where Kes could finally slip down to his knees, take the small silver band up from its place around his neck and _pray_.

It took four days of praying over Shara’s ring, his desperation mounting, before the Falcon was breaking the atmosphere, roaring over the canopy. Kes was tending his family’s long-neglected temple with trembling hands, the weight of his wife’s wedding band a comforting one right next to his heart.

He whirled around and nearly tripped over the roots in his path as the familiar sound of the freighter sent the trees blowing side to side.

Poe looked dead. He looked entirely _dead_ when Kes forced his heavy feet up the gangway. His handsome face was ashy gray, making the blood caked into his hair and staining his clothes stand out all the more. The only thing that gave away the fact that he was still alive was the fierce grip he kept on Finn’s hand while the younger man’s head rested on his shoulder. Finn’s chest rose and fell steadily, and it would break his heart to wake them up under any other circumstances, but Kes needed to see their eyes. He needed to look at his boys and have them look back, and know that they were _safe_.

Poe continued to look dead for a week, even with his eyes open and walking around the land he’d played on as a child. He was like a total stranger. Sometimes, he sat at his mother’s tree. He didn’t talk to her, like Kes did. Their son just sat in the grass with his back to the sturdy trunk, holding him upright.

Sometimes, Finn would come and crouch down beside him, looking like his own brand of shell-shocked. There was a halo of deep gouges in his hairline and pressed haphazardly into his palms.

Kes knew what had happened to them. Part of the “commanding officer” gig was mission reports, but that didn’t mean that he had the slightest _clue_ of what to do. He fiddled with the small silver ring around his neck, and tried his best to listen to whatever Shara was telling him.

It took him into the second week before he finally heard her.

The jungle had become a dusky silhouette against the sky, and Poe was facing the tree for once. He was looking more like himself on a daily basis—always ready with a grin, running his mouth to anyone with ears, his hair pulled away from his forehead to reveal that the gash across his scalp was all but healed.

Even the cast was off, his once-crushed left hand free to move, and Kes had almost forgotten what this son had looked like without it. The past two weeks and four days had felt like a century, even their home felt different. Even his son was changed.

Finn came by soon after Kes spotted Poe, walking with a purpose that said he’d known just where to find the other man.

There was a short exchange of words that Kes couldn’t hear, but something made Poe chuckle, and Finn grinned down at him before sitting at his side. He held out a ration, having to insist for a long couple seconds that seemed to get snappy before Poe held up his hands in surrender. He took the ration under Finn’s watchful gaze, taking a disinterested bite. At least somewhat satisfied, the younger man curled himself into his son’s side. He even took the half of the ration that Poe broke off for him without more than a halfhearted glare.

Kes grinned, something warm and gentle expanding through his chest.

 _Shara damn near never ate enough. There was just always somewhere else to go, or something else to do—missions to plan, friends to help, repairs to be made on that old A Wing. Getting her to sit still was enough of a feat, but to get her to_ really _rest? That was an accomplishment that Kes was still certain he should’ve been given a medal for._

_In the last months of the Rebellion, it was the worst it had ever been._

_Her hair had gotten long and wild, her curls falling into her face as she rifled through boxes of medical supplies day after day. Once Dr. Kal and Leia found out about the baby, Shara had been taken off all flight rotations and condemned to paperwork and technical support. She had been climbing the walls, finding any and all work she could do now that her ship was effectively grounded. Kes appreciated it, sure, but Shara was dropping weight under the stress. The doctor’s appointments, the watchful eyes of friends like Leia, Luke, and Han all beating into her back like they were waiting for her to just_ try _to get back in the sky— she was starting to lose her cool. Her arms were starting to look a little frail, her eyes were a little tired, and at night in their quarters, when he could really get a look at her, Kes could see her losing weight even around the small swell of her belly._

_It was dinnertime in the mess hall when he finally dragged her away from another day of work. She leaned a little heavier against his side than she used to as they looked around for a seat in the bustling hall, when Kes had an idea._

_“C’mon, let’s go this way.”_

_“Leia got a table over there—"_

_“How about somewhere quiet?” he emphasized, looking his pilot in the eyes and waiting for her to get the idea “Let’s play hooky tonight. We’ll go just_ be people _for a minute.”_

_He got her to eat. He got her to eat a whole ration and half of his, stealthily slipped onto her plate where they sat and dangled their feet over the edge of their seats in the lookout post, surrounded by trees. He got her to release a little of that tension knotted in her spine, and he even made her laugh. She ran her hand across her middle, taking his wrist and guiding him from place to place where he could feel their kid rolling and stretching._

“I get that you two are close, but isn’t spying a little too far?” a familiar voice with a breath of a laugh cut into the vivid memory—he could’ve sworn he felt a tiny foot kicking against his palm, and gripped the ring against his heart.

“I’m not spying—I’m keeping tabs.” He covered uselessly, blinking away Shara’s soft smile and looking over at Leia’s, "It's not easy to get through what they're going through, but they have each other."

“They’re pretty sweet together. Poe’s doing better than Finn, I think—believe it or not. I've been helping them train their bond, but it's been so hard to get them out of each other's heads." she rolled her eyes, fond "They don't just have each other-- they have _all_ of us."

They were both looking out the kitchen window, then, studying the pair as the sun slipped under the treeline. Finn was horizontal, laying his head in Poe’s lap while the other man rested his eyes and broke off another bite of the ration. His freshly healed hand stroked up and down the younger man’s chest, idle chatter giving them a little respite from the stress of their lives.

He smiled when Poe waited for his moment, and poised the broken bit of ration at Finn’s lips. It made Kes ache to watch them, just being _people_ for a minute, away from the crowds.

 _They’d only been home from Endor for a few months, the peak of the dry season when Poe was brought_ screaming _into their lives._

 _He was the most beautiful little thing in the galaxy. Kes would die for him, kill for him, and—most notably—he would do_ anything _to get this baby to_ stop screaming _and go to sleep._

_They had gone nearly two days with nothing more than caf and catnaps to keep them going. The tiny body with the big lungs had finally cried himself out by the third night, his little breaths puffing against Kes’s chest where he was cradled under his chin._

_He didn’t dare move from where he sat, propped up against the headboard of their bed. The slightest shift could start it up all over again._

_“Don’t forget to breathe, at least.” Shara’s exhausted whisper managed to hold the tilt of a smile, and he felt her fingers slip into his hair._

_He forced himself to take a deep, measured inhale, breathing out and repeating before turning his face to take in his wife._

_Her hair was filthy-- both of them were, he knew. They slept in shifts, they showered in shifts, and Kes would say that this was the worst if Shara didn't still look so alive and beautiful and content beside him. The mess of curls was plaited down her back, and Poe's matching wisps of hair tickling Kes's neck. She studied him just as Kes studied her. Her eyes were ringed with deep, dark circles, but she was grinning as she watched their son sleep._

_Before his tired brain could catch up with him, Kes could feel Shara pressing something to his bottom lip._

_“Open up—when was the last time either of us ate something?” she waited with expectant eyes, and he dutifully opened his mouth to her. She smiled-- soft and sweet and reserved just for Kes—he couldn’t wait to grow old with her, a whole squadron of kids between them. “Gotta look after my boys, after all.”_

“Kes? _Kes?”_ Leia had quirked her eyebrow, her gaze sharp as a tack as she took him in—clutching the ring around his neck, probably with a dumb smile on his face, his eyes on his boys, and somehow also a million parsecs away. “What’s going on?”

“I… I gotta talk to my son.” He finally sighed, breathing in a long, measured breath.

* * *

The garden still radiated heat from the long day of getting baked by the dry season heat, even as the sky went a deep purple and the stars peeked out. The Force Tree glowed just beyond the gate. Between Shara’s energy and Poe and Finn’s bond, even Kes could feel the Force swirling around them. Kes took the chain around his neck between his fingers and pulled it delicately over his head as he stepped out into the evening air. His plants cried out for water-- he made a mental note to get that done later-- but he had something more important to attend to.

If he didn’t do this right then, right as he thought of it, he’d never bring himself to do it.

Finn was out like a light, his head pillowed on Poe’s thighs. Kes could sense his son’s concentration, his eyes closed and breathing deep—there was an aura of calm flooding the space around the tree, something Kes remembered from his days of being Force Bound.

He was keeping the nightmares at bay.

Kes was going to leave them to it, let the boy sleep, when Poe opened his eyes.

“Dad?”

“Hey there, Kiddo.” He said, gripping the chain in his hand “How’s your lieutenant?”

A shadow came over his face, and he shook his head. “He’s… he’s not great.”

Kes sat down beside his son and looked down at Finn’s sleeping face. 

“Just a little under a year ago, I was sitting at his bedside, waiting for him to wake up—now, I’ve never been so happy to watch someone sleep.”

He didn’t have to be Force sensitive to feel the power that coursed through his son, through their bond, into Finn, around the tree—it felt safe in a way that was so rare and pure in times like this. It felt like holding your baby on your chest, having food fed to you by someone who loved you, or swinging your feet off the lookout post and just _existing_ for a while—it was the quiet, steadfast love that came from making your own pocket of peace in the world. And Poe and Finn had worked hard for it.

“You love him.” It was a statement, not a question, but Poe still nodded.

“Yeah, I love him. So _much.”_ His eyes were wide and earnest, his jaw set as if daring Kes to challenge him. As if Kes didn't know exactly how deep that type of love ran, or how much it hurt to lose. Poe's eyes were haunted in a way they hadn't been before, like he knew that hurt, too. Kes didn't like to press for details on what had happened, but he knew that Finn almost died. 

Poe was trying to hold both of them together. 

“Hold out your hand, Kiddo. I have something for you.”

Poe’s brow furrowed, but he did as he was told. Kes pressed the chain and the ring into his palm, peeling back each finger as discreetly as he could. A breeze blew through the still air and ruffled Shara’s leaves as Poe looked down with wide eyes, soothing the ache of parting with it.

“Dad, I can’t—”

“It’ll make me feel better to know you have it. Besides,” he cleared his throat, smiling a little sadly that dampened the wink that was supposed to be cheeky “You’ll have more use for it than me.”

“ _Dad_ —”

“She’d like him,” he gestured down to Finn’s sleeping form, “and _we both_ want you to have the happiness we did.”

The silence hung in the air, with Poe glancing back and forth between his mother’s wedding ring in his hand and the sleeping face of the man he loved. Kes caught himself holding his breath, and let Shara’s memory whisper in his ear, drawing in a deep inhale and exhaling on a sigh as Poe closed his hand around the chain.

“Thank you, Dad. I… It means a lot.”

He slipped the chain around his neck, shooting him the shy kind of smile that couldn’t quite conceal the wobble of his lip or the glassy sheen over his eyes.

Kes left them before Finn could be woken by whatever nightmares his face had started to twist with. He was careful to make sure that Poe wasn’t distracted from his task watching over him for too long. 

He kissed his forehead—still the most beautiful, _less_ little, thing in the galaxy-- and walked past Leia into the kitchen. He ignored the feeling that he was missing something, a weight missing from his chest. He _definitely_ ignored the knowing look on Leia’s face as he left her behind and headed down to his quarters, feeling lighter, and less anchored, than he had in nearly 20 years. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO. I almost forgot to put in a chapter note hahaha 
> 
> First of all, I hope you're all healthy and safe. 
> 
> Second of all, here's Leia and Luke FINALLY properly reuniting! Leia is a character that I feel got super ripped off by the sequel trilogy (ya know, like most of them?), and I wanted to show her connections to the other characters as just a person-- we love calling her the General, and making her seem sharp and strong all the time, but she's just as strong when she needs to let go for a minute. This is that minute. 
> 
> As always, please please please comment and let me know what you think! Everyone is going crazy outside, but fanfiction is a solitary, indoor activity for social distancing and selfcare. <3 I'm happy to provide that for you-- and myself haha-- but, I love knowing how much you enjoy it. 
> 
> Thank you! <3

Old things-- things that have been a part of history or hold onto strong emotions— have a certain weight in the Force. Like tiny planets and moons in their own right, they had gravity. Dameron Fields was like that—the furniture was the place of rest for generations, the walls had sheltered clans of people through bloodshed and war. Through good times and bad, Dameron House had collected the emotions and experiences of the people who called it home.

The ability to feel and understand these vibrations was one of Leia’s favorite things about the Force. They were all muddled together, between decades of genocide and fear, interspersed with the fleeting moments of peace, but the overarching, most prominent feeling that radiated up from the floor and in from the walls, was  _ love _ . Generations of Kes’s family had been born there, raised there, loved there and died there.

Because of this, many years ago, her friends’ home had claimed the title of one of Leia’s favorite places—it was a meditative, warm home that she hadn’t had for herself since she and Han were young, and Ben was small. Maybe not since the war ended in the first place. She had been so alone and so transient for so long. The memories of a time when they were all happily at peace between that house’s walls were nearly enough to bring Leia to her knees.

Instead, she sat in a chair at the cluttered table and catalogued every feeling that washed over her, passing through the room like ghosts. It was early morning, and she’d stepped into the kitchen from the garden before even Kes had gotten up from his fitful sleep. Leia took a moment to fill her lungs, soaking up the energies that echoed around the living space-turned-command center.

She could tell just by drifting her fingers across the old wood of the kitchen table how many peaceful breakfasts and dinners had passed there. Leia had been there for a lot of them—she and Han, before things turned sour.

There were pictures lining the walls documenting the life of the little boy that she had thought she was going to get to watch grow up. There was a heavy aura of loss that hovered over the kitchen sink, where a tiny window looked out at the garden gate.

Despite that though, more than anything, there was a warm breeze in the house that felt like  _ joy _ . She remembered it well from the chaos and wine at the wedding—Shara was glowing, radiant and breathless. She was pregnant enough at that point that she would’ve garnered some looks on Alderaan, but Yavinic folks just seemed to congratulate them—Leia didn’t understand yet, that Yavin saw things a little differently. Kes was unflappably calm—both of them were, completely assured of their choice of partner, at ease with their community and their friends. He was grinning as the party moved around him, laughing when Han said something cheeky, smiling at Luke. Back in the day, they’d all been  _ friends _ . He used to smile like that  _ all _ the time. The last time Leia had seen it was Poe’s eighth birthday.

But Poe’s eighth birthday was the last time she saw Kes for decades. It was the last time she saw Poe before he was a man, a  _ stranger _ . It was the last time she saw Shara, ever.

When she walked through the kitchen for a cup of caf, she felt the familiar internal ebb and flow of labor, almost sure her hand was on the exact spot where Shara must’ve gripped the countertop when a contraction hit. The unique cocktail of terror and thrilling excitement that only came with  _ that _ moment made Leia’s eyes mist over. She remembered the ecstatic comm they’d gotten from Kes, the tiny head of their son just a puff of curls sleeping in the crook of his arm.

She remembered meeting her own son similarly. Han was so _happy_ —happier than she ever dreamed he’d be, to be a dad-- he loved that little boy _so_ _much_. There was so much love in his squinty little eyes, back when everything was still new, and Ben was still _theirs_.

Leia sipped her caf and waited for the vice-like grip of grief to dissipate, blinking against the tears. She had spent so long with a Han-shaped hole in her life, after things started to go to the Dark side with their son. She had done so much on her own, but she’d never wanted to have her husband, or her son, or her  _ life _ back like she did right then.

The Dameron House echoed with the laughter and encouragement of the first steps taken by squishy little legs. She could still see the birthdays and spontaneous visits, Poe’s delighted little face in her mind’s eye. His excitement when he saw The Falcon. She had looked down at him and heard him call her “Aunt Leia” time after time. By the time she was on her own way to having a son, she could only hope that her boy could grow up to be Poe’s cousin and friend. That they’d  _ both _ have wide eyes, kind hearts, and strong wills.

Swallowing hard, she heaved herself up and felt her bones creak with age. The early morning was the only time she ever truly felt her age, and Leia took it with a roll of her eyes. It was from carrying the New Republic on her back for thirty years, she was sure.

She got herself a second cup of caf and listened to the house waking up. Another long, hot day was starting. She set her mug on the command center table. Leia breathed, steeling herself for another day as The General, powering up the comms and equipment for another day of rebuilding a base, and took one last moment for herself before Kes and Luke would come in for their meeting.

* * *

_ “Lookin’ beautiful as ever, Leia! Glad to see you doing better.”  _ Lando’s familiar laugh reminded her of Han and choked her throat.  _ “Dameron and Chewie told me all about the ambush, we were starting to fear the worst.” _

Her heart was heavy, but her smile was genuine as she looked at the hologram of her old friends. Chewie and C3PO flanked him on either side, making her ache for home “I had the best care a person could ask for—considering the circumstances. I’m all healed.”

_ “Thank the Maker for that one. We’d be lost without you, Princess _ .” His smile was charming as ever, and she rolled her eyes fondly  _ “Dameron, good to see you again—your boy and his team all got back safe? Because I’ve got a few pilots who were about to canvas the whole galaxy to search for him.” _

Kes chuckled “Let me guess—Temmin Wexley? And Jessika Pava?”

_ “Got it in one. Had to send them out on a mission to keep ‘em occupied—there have been some unsettling whispers around my circles up here. I don’t know anything for sure yet, but make sure you all lay low. The First Order is under new management.” _

Chewie cut them all off with a guttural roar, and Leia’s eyes flicked over to the scruffy new version of her brother—all of them knew what Chewie was saying. Luke had been spotted, and was being read the riot act.

_ “Oh, Master Luke! What a surprise—it has been nearly ten years since you were last—” _

“Thanks, 3PO. I know how long it’s been.” Luke griped, and Leia almost hated him for that split second. She nearly opened her mouth to tell him just how much he  _ didn’t  _ know how long it had been, but Lando beat her to it.

_ “Well, I’m glad you know. Isn’t that a relief? I’d almost rather you be  _ dead  _ than have you come crawling back here knowing full well how many people you abandoned, Skywalker.” _

Chewie growled in agreement.

Luke was silent. Leia’s heart ached for her brother, despite the warring rage swirling in her gut—he had left her. He had left all of them, and run from his perceived mistakes instead of facing them. Instead of helping, he left her and Han to fall apart in his wake. All for the sake of her son. For a lost soul that he could never have saved by the time he got to him. For a failing she would never blame him for.

He never even asked her if she blamed him. She didn’t even see him before he left—Luke just disappeared. He let her believe he was murdered with his students, let her find out about her son’s rampage through the Force and the news circuit.

_ “D’you have a single damn thing to say for yourself? Did you at least come back for Han? Since you couldn’t be bothered to stay—not for him, or your own sister? Not even for Mar—” _

“I  _ know _ what I did.” He finally cut in, the tie of the Force between her and her twin finally lighting up with something beyond the dread of expecting this reaction, or the self-loathing that came with it. No, now Leia felt a pang of Luke’s  _ panic _ as it surged through him. “And she has nothing to do with this--”

_ “The Hell she doesn’t-- she disappeared even more completely that you did!”  _

Luke looked sick, and Leia could feel the tangle of humiliation and desperation thrumming through the bond “I’m here to make things right, Lando.” he ground out through clenched teeth. 

And with that, he crossed the room and slammed the door behind him. He left them in tense silence as he walked out into the garden.

_ “There he goes, running away again.” _ Lando called after him, as if he were doing some sort of twisted broadcast.

The silence hung heavy in the kitchen. Leia didn’t know what to say, both her and Kes watching as Luke made his way down the garden path, closer and closer to the Force Tree. She could feel Kes getting tenser and tenser.

“He was her friend, once upon a time.” Leia tried to reason with him, listening to his teeth grind and air hiss out his nose. “He was  _ both _ of your friends.”

“Yeah. And now she’s  _ dead _ .” He growled “ _ Funny _ how that always seems to happen around Luke Skywalker.”

She was just about coming up to the end of her patience with these people— releasing her own hiss of air out her nostrils, Leia turned on her heel and followed Luke out into the oppressively hot morning. She could hear Kes continuing the meeting without her, but that was fine.

As much as she hated to admit it, Leia trusted her Vice Admiral more in this fight than she trusted her own brother.

A part of her still expected to go out into the garden and find out that Luke was gone again. That it was all too hard for him to return and face this—she wanted to give him more credit than that, but it was all she could offer.

He was still there. She hated the wave of relief that swept through her, and met him at the gate. He stood by Shara’s tree, looking down at the earth where they’d buried her. It wasn’t for Shara’s sake, though—he just didn’t want to meet Leia’s eyes.

“Luke.”

“You came out here to make sure I wasn’t leaving again.” It wasn’t a question. He felt it through their bond.

“You have a tendency to do that.” She replied drily, letting her lips twist into a terse expression “I also wanted to make sure you were okay. That was…

“Everything I deserved?”

She shrugged “Rough.”

They studied each other, the low garden gate still between them and the sun still climbing high even though it seemed impossible that it could get hotter. The air was almost completely still, the only breeze stirred up by the Force tree’s typical sway.

“Did you think this was going to be easier?” she finally broke the silence, watching as her brother scrubbed his mechanized hand down his scruffy face. “You let a lot of people down.”

“I’m here trying to make things right.”

“Damn right, you are. Because a lot went wrong while you were having your little camping trip.”

“So, you agree with them?” he was bracing himself for her answer, she could see it plainly on his weathered face. It would break him if she did.

It was a good thing, then, that she  _ didn’t _ .

“They’re harsh. They don’t know you like I do—like Han did.” Her voice broke on his name, and she tried to hide it by clearing her throat. Luke opened the garden gate and held out a hand to her. She sighed, her anger deflating out of her bit by bit, and then all at once “ _Why_ did you go? We needed you, Luke. _I_ _needed_ you.”

“It was all my fault—Leia,  _ everything! _ The First Order was rising and you were working so hard to get the Senate to take them seriously. I ruined it all when Ben came to train with me, and I failed. All that… all that happened at my school gave the Senate everything they needed to crucify you—”

“I should’ve never sent him to you. I should’ve paid closer attention—I lost him the day I let him out of my sight.” She admitted, the only time she’d dared to say the words since the last time she’d seen her husband. Luke stared at her as if she’d grown a second head and started speaking Jawa.

She smiled, close-lipped and miserable, feeling her eyes prickle with tears. “I’m his mother, Luke. He may have made his own choices, he dug himself in too deep with the wrong people, been manipulated—he was my  _ son _ . Han and I did everything we could.  _ Kriff _ , I was so blind, Luke.”

He was shaking his head dumbly, gaping and gripping her by the shoulders like that could somehow make the truth stop pouring out of her.

“I knew there was no saving him the day Poe came back from The Finalizer. After what Kylo Ren had done to him… then there was the Hosnian system, and the slaughter on Jakku, all of it… I knew, but I had this _stupid_ _hope_ —if he saw his dad again, then he’d listen. He’d be _Ben_ again.”

She had sent her husband to die on a half-baked hope that her son wasn’t entirely eclipsed by evil. There was no manual for this—for what to do when a child was so  _ transformed  _ as a man, and challenged his mother to consider how much of that darkness was her gift to him. How much of Kylo was born in her son because of her? Had they been more attentive, would he still have done such horrible things?

“We all have guilt to live with, Luke—” her voice was a harsh, choked sound, thick with a sob that was caught in her throat. The one that she’d been holding inside for all those long years. “We  _ all  _ have  _ guilt…  _ but not all of us run away.”

It was far too hot to hug, but she was shaking out of her skin—her husband was dead, her son was dead, and her friends were scattered by time and torn apart by grudges. She was supposed to be in charge, but the galaxy seemed to be coming apart at the seams. So, Luke pulled her close to him and wrapped his arms tight around her.

She  _ needed _ it. Because her brother was finally there.

“I’m not going, I promise… I’m staying, Leia.” He repeated it like a mantra, and it wasn’t until then that she realized she was muttering  _ Don’t leave again, please don’t go  _ again and again, beyond her control.

He waited to let go of her until after she caught her breath, a weight of grief and guilt dissolving in her chest that she hadn’t even known was there. How long had she been doing this alone? How long had it been since she acknowledged that?

“Let’s take a walk—The Great Temple and the old Rebellion base are just a mile into the jungle. It’ll be like Memory Lane.” He tugged her hand, but she wiped her eyes and shook her head.

“The meeting—Lando said something, and I left Kes by himself—”

“Kes Dameron built a military base out of his house over the course of  _ four days _ , Leia. He’ll be fine for the morning.” He smirked, and she managed a huff of a laugh. He had a point. “Besides, I want to tell you about why I came back. I had a visit from Master Yoda—he had a couple things to say about guilt.”

He smiled, and for that second, he looked like a twenty-something jedi with the galaxy in front of him again. With  _ hope _ . Leia had a hundred questions, but she just rolled her red-rimmed eyes, and walked the well-trodden path across Dameron Fields, not alone anymore.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY. This chapter was just NOT HAPPENING for the longest time. 
> 
> I think I finally figured it out-- I'm trying to give us little insights into the healing of each of the major/supporting characters while still giving some cool new development to a couple of the characters that haven't really had a resolution for some major questions: What happened to Finn's mama? and How's Rey doing? (The answer for Rey is "bad". She's doing "bad"). Poe is stepping into his leadership role, slowly but surely, and we get to explore Yavin and its culture through their reunion with Leia and Luke and Lando. Being back at that house with them after so long? and so much baggage? That's gonna be an adventure. 
> 
> This chapter is to send Rose on her healing way. <3 It took longer than I wanted it to, but it's here, and I'm happy with it. 
> 
> Please let me know what you think! Please please please! And stay healthy <3 that's the most important thing!

“This is pretty stupid. I know… I know nobody’s there.”

The static was the only thing that answered her, heavy and shapeless. The ancient, battered Imperial commlink had lost its other half in the explosion of the Star Destroyer, but it fit so well in Rose’s hand. It still sputtered every once in a while, picking up random nearby frequencies, and the idea that maybe someone was hearing her, even if it was a stranger on the other side of the planet or even just a ghost, made her feel like, maybe, she wasn’t talking to herself. She liked to imagine that she was talking to Jannah, or Mom, or _Paige_. Someone who could give Rose hope. 

She _didn’t_ do it often. She really _didn’t_. It just made her feel a little better.

“I just don’t know who else to talk to, I guess. Everybody else seems to be doing worse than me, and… and it’s my job to make people better. It’s literally my job.”

Rey had barely been seen since the Falcon touched down. Rose had examined her for injuries and found none-- but, there was no bacta treatment that could take the haunted look out of her eyes. She could maybe be spotted meditating throughout the temple complex of the jungle, but Rose had the feeling that she was usually just avoiding Luke. On her good days, though, she was content to sit in the barn with Poe and Finn, working in companionable silence on the ships and speeders there. 

Poe’s face had healed, and even his hand was back to normal. There was no way he was okay, though, judging by the circles under his eyes. He was pretty good at hiding it with a clever comeback or _that smile_ he had-- she could see why people so rarely questioned him about his health the first time on D’Qar-- but, Rose could swear that Poe wasn’t sleeping again. She could just barely see him and Finn from her little bunk in the subterranean barracks every night, and she could swear that she still saw the pilot’s eyes in the low light. There was some Force thing he did to try and help Finn sleep, she had heard him mention it to The General once or twice. Apparently, Finn used to do it for him, but Poe’s energy was “weaker”— Leia had rolled her eyes at that, but still insisted. He had to try harder to keep Finn’s nightmares at bay. 

And if Finn knew he was doing it-- staying up all night and sacrificing his own sleep for his-- Rose was sure he’d kill him. 

But Finn’s nightmares were the _worst_. Finn concerned her more than Poe or Rey, or even any of the other shell-shocked and disheartened Resistance fighters still alive. It seemed like everyone was falling to pieces, sometimes. The barracks at night were punctuated by those who couldn’t contain their screams, or that had to get up and walk off the shaking in their limbs. Finn was different, though. 

When he woke up, he didn’t just scream, he _sobbed._ Even Poe seemed out of his depth, trying to calm him while he trembled and muffled his noises into the pilot’s neck. It had gotten so bad that they were planning to move their bunks to a different cellar, further along the tunnel. 

Rose wondered what he could possibly be dreaming of-- if it was Phasma, she’d think that the terror would take over more than this… grief? Was it grief? 

Maybe it was a stormtrooper thing. She wondered if the defected stormtroopers on Endor had had similar dreams-- did Jannah? Jannah would have known how to calm Finn, she understood him. They even had matching scars since all that happened. It knotted up Rose’s chest to look at the pattern of calloused white scars across Finn’s hands, and the thinner, more healed ones across the rest of him. She wished that her aversion was somehow for his sake, but it was selfish. 

It made her think of Jannah-- of having her chest just barely brushing her back and her own scarred hands guiding Rose’s blaster into position. None of it felt _real_ , like the leader of the defected had been nothing more than a dream. 

Did the other defectors on Endor know that Jannah was dead? She wondered if they were okay, or if they still needed that guidance. She had been _so_ brave—she only ever wanted to keep those people safe, and they had relied on her. She was a good leader, no matter what Poe had said. 

It all felt like a hundred, hazy years ago. Not three short weeks.

Paige would know what to do—she’d be able to sit down next to her and tell her that there was no point getting herself all twisted up over some silly infatuation. It had been so fleeting; it wasn’t even a crush. And Paige would be able to say it all so gently that it would barely even hurt to hear. She’d still hold Rose’s hand and let her cry about it _again_. She would tell Rose to channel her energy into helping her friends, to ending this kriffing war, so that they could finally be _free_.

Paige would say all that if she were there. Rose would have a rudder on her boat again, and be able to face her patients, the Doc, and her _friends_ without flinching like she didn’t belong. Paige could show her the path-- all their lives, she had been the one to guide. She would know what to do if she had her sister back. But she didn’t. And she never would.

“It’s like I’m missing a limb, or something.” she confessed to the static, her voice sounding thick and choked through her aching throat. Her vision started to swim again, and Rose fully rolled her eyes at herself—she was so _sick_ of crying. “I knew it could happen, we talked about it, she tried to prepare me. But I never actually let myself _think about it_. Even after… After she was gone, and things started moving _so_ _fast_ , I was still trying to wrap my brain around it. I thought that when I had patients to focus on, like Poe’s concussion and Leia’s shrapnel, then his hand and Finn’s cuts and… I thought it would be enough of a distraction. That it would make it easier to grieve, but it just made it _worse_.”

The dim flickering of the generator lamps in the tunnel system bled into a mess of soft orange light in the darkness as the hot prickle of tears overwhelmed her. Rose kept one foot in front of the other, focusing on one thing for as long as it took to keep breathing.

“During that mission, I didn’t think about Paige for—for a full _two_ _days_. I forgot she was even…” _I thought I would still come home to her_ , her brain betrayed her. 

Her boots seemed to walk on without her, twisting and curving with the path that she’d blindly walked so many times. If she stopped walking, if she let her grief catch up with her in full, Rose was sure she’d never be able to stop crying. She’d become a part of the ground beneath her and never see the sky again. Every time she looked up, she only thought of Paige, anyway.

_She had looked up from the command deck on that doomed ship, out the wide window of the Bridge into the expanse of space. The battle had been swallowing up their fighters for so long, so many had already died, but when The General gave the command to bring in the fighters, she thought they’d beaten the odds again._

_When Paige’s panicked cry had broken through the comms, it was like reality separated into factions—like there was no way that it could happen, but simultaneously as if there was no other foreseeable way for this battle to end. Why had Rose ever believed anything else? How_ dare _she hope?_

Even on Yavin, she still found herself turning around to look for her sister by her side. Sometimes, it was to complain about the heat. Sometimes, it was just to shoot a joking and exasperated glance over the head of a particularly unruly patient (most typically Poe). 

She still expected to see Paige dramatically fanning herself with a datapad, or meeting her gaze with a conspiratorial giggle. She still felt as if the floor was ripped out from beneath her when all that was there was empty air. 

“I _forgot_ that my _sister_ was d-dead. She-she blew up right in front of my kriffing face and I…”

It really was like losing a limb—like a part of her had been blasted away and left her incomplete. Ever since their mother died and they were left as foundlings in the unforgiving galaxy, she’d had Paige as the extension of her arm, gripping her hand and tugging her along. Paige knew the way. She had the drive to fight, and the map to the battle, and the words to inspire others. 

To inspire Rose. 

She’d give every second left of her life just to hear her sister’s voice again. 

* * *

She didn’t know how long she spent that particular day, curled up in the darkest corner of the tunnels. It smelled like damp soil and stale air, and the dim lights were flickering overhead. But Rose didn’t know either of those things-- her eyes were sore, swollen from however long she’d cried there, on the rocky floor with her head resting against the wall behind her with eyes closed. Her nose was all but completely blocked, little puffs of breath barely sniffling through. 

She felt _gross_. She thought crying was supposed to be a release-- when was she going to stop feeling like there was a block of ice around her heart and lungs and start feeling _better?_

She sat and stared straight ahead for a while, not wanting to force herself back into motion yet. She was sure her face was a puffy mess of dried tears and red splotches. She could feel the heat in her cheeks and behind her eyes, and _somebody_ was bound to say something if she dared to walk back up through the tunnel and into the barn. 

Rose didn’t even know what time it was. 

Wallowing wasn’t a good look on anybody, and she knew it, but the strength to get up couldn’t seem to make its way from her brain to her legs. Just as she was scrubbing a hand down her face, trying to summon the will to move, there was a familiar trill that echoed through the tunnel. 

BB-8 went barreling into Rose’s knee, letting out a little shriek at the same time that Rose said “Hey, watch it!”, rubbing her leg. 

That was going to bruise. 

“What’re you doing all the way down here?” she watched the little astromech’s lens as it studied her, whirring quietly before cooing-- as if it understood something that Rose hadn’t said. “Are you by yourself? How’d you find me?” 

There was no one behind the droid, and there were no footsteps in the hall. 

A small compartment on the side of their body popped open with an audible clicking sound, a mechanical arm shoving out in Rose’s direction. She squinted at the object in the shoddy lighting, her eyes still sore and bleary. 

It was a handkerchief. Completely clean and unused aside from the small smudge of motor oil along one of the corners. 

She must’ve been staring a moment too long, because the droid chirped as if she’d offended them, waving the mechanical arm at her until she took the handkerchief. 

“Okay, okay-- you know what? You’re spending too much time with R2.” she griped before doing her best to wipe her eyes and clear out her nose. “Thanks.” 

The galaxy felt just the slightest bit more habitable once she was able to take a real, deep breath. The little droid beeped back with a distinctly smug tone. She smiled, still feeling swollen and tired, but less alone. 

“Do you know how to get out of here without seeing anybody?” she asked “I’d just like to avoid… y’know?” she gestured vaguely, but BB-8 still seemed to understand, trilling out a jaunty pattern and using their little mechanical arm to shove at her leg. 

Rose pushed herself up the wall until she was finally back on her feet, bones cracking as she changed position and making her wince-- how long had she been down there? 

BB-8 didn’t wait too long for her to adjust, taking off deeper into the tunnels and leaving her to catch up-- like owner, like droid. Rose couldn’t help the fond warmth that filtered through her veins, thinking of her friends. Maybe, once her red cheeks calmed down, she’d see where Finn was. Or Poe. It’d be a miracle if Rey was around, but maybe tonight miracles were possible. 

They didn’t go far before BB-8 was beeping and knocking their head against a hard stone wall. It wasn’t the wall that the droid wanted her to see, though. 

There was a ladder of footholds dug into the side of that wall, with an old trapdoor barring her way up into the outside world. 

“Thanks little guy.” Rose cleared her throat until her voice sounded more like her own-- less of an exhausted, cried-out rasp. 

When she finally surfaced from the tunnels, it was with BB-8 cheering her on with a complex melody of trills and beeps and whirs. She rolled her eyes while the little droid rolled around in circles and nudged her out into the warm light-- but it wasn’t the sun. It was far too cool, nowhere near oppressively hot enough to have her outside during a typical Yavin day. 

She was in what usually was the master bedroom of the Dameron House-- converted into a critical care room by the Doc, and currently unoccupied. For the first time in the weeks since they arrived, though, Rose took a moment to look around. 

The first thing she noticed was that the window was dark-- it was night. Pretty late, if she had to guess, since Yavin days were so long, dusk extending for what she considered to be hours. The night was twinkling with stars and planets outside, so it had to be very late. 

The second thing, which she had never had the time to really look at, was the bookshelf-- it had less books on it, and more trinkets. Pieces of the past sat in neat, dusty rows, like photo albums, a child’s drawings and pieces of jewelry. 

There was something that looked like a small stone on the shelf, propping up a little photo of a sunny day. A sunny day full of young, smiling faces that she could just manage to pick out through the blur of activity that was encapsulated in the frame. There was the General, and the Doc-- both of them looking lighter and happier than Rose had ever seen. Kes was there-- she wasn’t surprised to note how handsome he had been, barely older than Rose was then, or that the woman with her arm wrapped around his middle was laughing out loud with something he had said. 

A dashing man that must have been Senator Calrissian was leaning into frame with his hands propped on Han and Chewie’s shoulders, and Luke was smiling in the conspiratorial way that said the bunny ears were about to come out. 

The stone holding up the memory was a piece of carefully poured duracrete, with a tiny hand pressed into it. It was so small, about half the size of Rose’s palm and pudgy in a way that only a baby’s hand could be. She traced the little outline of the duracrete before flipping it over to see something that was maybe the cutest thing she had ever seen, and somehow inexplicably heartbreaking: _Poe, 3 months._

Rose wasn’t sure why it made her feel so sad. 

“You’ve had a few people pretty worried.” a voice broke into her thoughts, sending her whirling around on her heel to see the older version of Kes Dameron-- still handsome, but more gray. His smile had changed. 

“What?”

“Poe and Rey were about to assemble a search party, but Finn said he had a _feeling._ ” Kes slipped further into the room, the door cracked open a healthy amount. Somehow, she’d missed the voices coming from the other side. 

“Was his feeling right?” 

The older man chuckled “They usually are-- but he did send a particularly tenacious droid to hunt you down, too. You know Finn--”

Rose found herself laughing, too. It was a foreign exercise, making her genuinely tired with its exertion. “His contingency plans have contingency plans.” she nodded. 

She was only just looking around for BB-8 when suddenly, a grappling hook shot up from the open trapdoor and lodged itself into the ceiling. The astromech popped up like they were on the end of a fishing hook, giving a mechanical little shriek as it landed with a thud on the bedroom floor. 

Kes gave a long-suffering sigh “ _Poe--_ ” he called into the kitchen “How many times have I told you to get your droid to stop blowing holes in my ceiling?” 

“Stop giving them ladders to climb, and they’ll stop blowing holes in your ceiling!” Poe cried indignantly in defense of his baby. BB-8 gave a happy little trill and rolled out of the room, sending the door wide open on their way to the familiar voice of their master. 

“Hey!” Finn turned his grin on her when the older Dameron led her out into the living area “Kes is telling us all about how embarrassing Poe was as a kid--”

“These stories are not embarrassing! They’re _cute_ —” Kes chuckled with a twinkle in his eye that said he knew _exactly_ what these stories were “Poe’s always been cute. And usually doing the exact opposite of what you told him to do. Some things never change—”

“Alright, alright— at least I’m still cute, though.” Poe cut them both off, playfully tugging on one of Rey’s buns while she dug through old, dog-eared photos and poked at dust covered holo-reels.

“Poe, Rose missed dinner—”

“What d’you think I’m getting up for? It’s not just so you can watch me walk away.” the pilot shot a wink at Finn over his shoulder, and even Rose’s empty emotional reserves seemed to fill a little at the sight of Finn’s blush.

Poe’s sharp grin softened at Rose’s still-puffy face, mercifully not mentioning it as he took her hand and guided her out of the threshold where she’d parked herself, heading toward the kitchen.

“Kes—what about this one? Is that the same A Wing in the barn?” Rey was asking, tugging the gazes of the others helpfully away from Rose’s back as Poe rummaged through the cupboards and poured her a glass of water that she hadn’t realized she needed.

He raised an unimpressed, faintly amused eyebrow at her when she drained it. Wordlessly, he took it back and refilled it, not taking his pointed gaze off her for a single second.

“You’re not fooling anybody.” He finally broke the hush between them. For some reason, it didn’t send the usual spark of irritation through her. She swallowed a slower sip of water and looked right back at Poe. The circles under his eyes, the set of his mouth, the way he flexed his left hand.

“Neither are you.” She replied “And neither are they.”

“I mean, yeah. You’re not wrong.” Poe conceded to that point, nodding and sighing “I know what it’s like to get most of your drive to fight from a person who isn’t here anymore—”

The comfort in the space drained out of her, a tight, icy cold clench wrapping itself back around her chest. Poe pushed a fork into her hand.

“I’m not looking for some deep heart-to-heart right now, I’m not tired or drunk enough yet. You’ve been spared for now.” He pulled down a plate, and dished up a reheated assortment of rations.

She hadn’t realized that she was so hungry. Poe, apparently, definitely knew, because he held the plate just out of easy reach and forced her to listen to him.

“For now, just know that maintaining your drive is a Hell of a lot easier when you aren’t isolating yourself from the rest of your cause.” He gestured over to the others, who were holding up a picture of Shara and listening with rapt attention to Kes’s description of The Battle of Endor. Then, he looked back at Rose. “It helps him to talk about her, and it helps others to listen. Come sit down. Eat something, and just be a part of the picture—one day, you can tell us about Paige, if you want.”

On the Bridge, with the last seconds of her life, Paige had asked Poe to look after her. Rose wasn’t sure if it was the delirium from the smell of food, the lack of restful sleep, or the dehydration of daily crying fits, but for a half a second, her friend’s gaze didn’t look like his own. It looked like Paige, trying to smack her upside the head.

Poe handed her the plate and they sat back down. Finn had an arm slung across the back of her chair. Rey managed a smile that was more than a shell, a sparkle of her lost curiosity reigniting for that night.

Rose felt the slightest bit of a thaw on the ice around her chest, and she breathed a little easier.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol this is NOT short, I'm so bad at keeping these chapters short. But I loved writing this one SO MUCH! 
> 
> I missed writing Finn's POV! It's so good to dive into one of the main plotlines of this story, and give Finn some solid development after all that happened to him in Episode VIII. If anyone needs some healing, it's Finn, and who better to help him heal than Poe. No matter what, the biggest theme of this story will always be that Love Will Help You Heal, I guess. 
> 
> Kes Dameron is always right, in the end. <3 
> 
> That all being said, Finn is in a lot of pain and his past is SUPER DARK. If you have any trigger-worthy aversions to stories of child abduction, this is something you might want to skip. 
> 
> As always, I hope you're all safe and well! Let me know what you think of this chapter. I love hearing from you. So much.

_There were certain, terrible constants in Finn’s nightmares. He couldn’t seem to properly move, the world always took long, useless seconds to adjust to, and his mind was always a confusing, tangled mess torn between a child’s emotions and a man’s intuition._

_It always started with the sound of engines. The deafening roar of something landing. Then, there came the screaming._

_Hundreds of voices cried out in terror and pain, heralding the arrival of absolute chaos, even before the shuttle opened and unleashed its brutality. Finn remembered being unfamiliar with what the ship meant, or why everyone was running, looking around for the reason behind the fear.  
_

_Then, he understood. He was rooted to his spot, staring straight ahead. There was a First Order shuttle on the far end of his vision, while tall, mud brick buildings flanked it on either side and helpless people made a desperate run for cover._

_He flinched as the first blaster shots pierced the crowds, a panic consuming him that he didn’t understand but couldn’t escape._

_He wanted his mother._

_Finn was never sure where he was in these flashes of memory-- his viewpoint was always too low to the ground to properly see the planet around him, obscured by brush or tree trunks, or by the legs of bigger people as they ran for safety. It wasn’t until he would wake up that he’d realize the buildings weren’t particularly tall-- it was him who was small._

_Stormtroopers with shining, dark armor-- like Phasma, all of them-- filed neatly off of the shuttle with blasters aimed and ready. It all had the air of a routine. This was common and well-rehearsed for them. Their blasters were primed, their armor gleamed, and the people already seemed to expect what the landing of The First Order meant on their soil. They ran out of horrible anticipation-- expecting the incoming pain, no matter what they did as they desperately fought and clawed to find safety. But, it wasn’t just safety._

_The people of this city were looking for something. They were trying to beat Phasma and her forces to the prize that they so clearly came for. That they were willing to murder every person they encountered in order to get._

_They had come for the children._

_The smell of ozone and blood clogged the air of whatever this town was that he called home, and Finn stumbled over his clumsy little feet as he turned to run._

_There were bodies scattered across the dusty streets as Finn dodged between grown up legs and ran as fast as his little feet would carry him. He wasn’t sure how he knew the path, but something deep in him pulsed like a drum, a tug under his breastbone that pulled him forward._

_As a man, he looked back and recognized the familiar sensation as the Force’s guidance-- but as a child, it felt as if maybe-- just maybe-- he only knew the way because this was home._

_At one point buried deep in his memories, Finn had had a_ home _\-- he had been a child, and he had had a mother. He had a mother, and he could feel a tight knot of dread the size of a grown man’s inside his child sized gut as he rocketed through the chaotic streets to find her._

_He had to find her before the First Order did._

_He just had to find her, before_ the First Order _found_ him _. He had a bad feeling, a feeling like he was being chased, as if he’d been spotted-- for what, though?_

 _Finn was a little boy. He was a little boy in a foreign but somehow familiar place, looking for a mother he barely remembered with tears streaming down his round cheeks. He was being_ hunted _. He could hear the clack of armor, the blaster fire and the screams behind him, but he didn’t dare stop to look._

_There was a small settlement of huts on the fringe of the city’s bustling center and a great swoosh of relief flooded through him, turning his knees to jelly. He was home-- he was home, And he knew what was coming. The adult version of himself, trapped in this child’s body, knew that this was the point where he made his fatal mistake._

_He stopped running and collapsed into the grass._

_He was being chased. People were dying. He had dodged around the dead and fled from the terrified living just to reach this place, but he couldn’t drag his little feet a single step further._

_“MAMAAAA!”_

_It ripped out of his throat, the distraught scream of a sobbing child. He supposed that was what he was, in this tiny, fragile body, knowing just what was about to happen and helpless to stop it._

_A woman came tearing out of the low mud gate of the community, her fierce gaze locking onto him. She looked a little frail, her clothes were simple and frayed, and she was everything he had ever wanted, ever needed and hoped for. She called out to him with a name that he couldn’t hear or remember. Her eyes widened as the sight of the city behind Finn’s crumpled little body erupted with red and orange light. It lit up her face and froze her body for a split second before she broke into a run, just as fast was she could to get to him. Finn could do nothing more than reach out his pitiful arms and beg to be held._

_Come get me, please come get me-- I need you._

_She slipped strong, calloused hands around his middle and pulled him flush to her chest. He could hear her rapid heartbeat under his ear, and managed to coax his breathing into something more than the erratic, shuddering sobs that shook his small body. His inhales fluttered, his exhales puffed out into the crook of his mama’s neck as she dashed back into the relative safety of the huts._

_This was where he had lived. He couldn’t properly see through his sore, swollen eyes-- especially not in the pitch darkness. But he knew that this had been his home at one point._

_There were other parents and other children hiding there, too. They were pressed to the walls, crouched behind the meager furniture, or clutched to their parent’s chest, like Finn was._

_Mama was saying something, she was whispering to him with wide, teary eyes and a smile that was meant to reassure him. She wanted him to be quiet-- there was a finger pressed to her lips as she shushed him in soothing whispers, but Finn wanted to sob. He wanted to scream and bawl and beg the universe to hear what his mother’s voice had sounded like. He wanted to hear her say his name-- the name she had given him._

_He knew he was dreaming-- he knew this wasn’t real, but if it wasn’t real, then what was? Where had he come from? Where was he now, as a man? He was locked into his tiny, childhood body, trapped in the moments that he could never go back and change._

_“Mama--”_

_“Shh--”_

_Light flooded their dark hovel, then. Armor glistened in the dusky backdrop of whichever planet he belonged to, a stormtrooper’s looming form taking up nearly all of the threshold. It was Phasma. Finn knew it, he could feel it in the Force. Parents held their children tighter, pushed their small bodies behind them, tried in vain to save them when they were already as good as gone._

_Smoke started to choke his throat-- everyone around him began to cough, a dark plume of acrid smoke billowing into the small window, before fire started licking in at them -- they were being forced out, faced with an impossible choice._

_They could come out of the hut and face the weapons of the First Order, or they could burn alive, huddling in the corner with their screaming, terrified children._

_They could be the reason why their children died a painful death, or they could give them up._

_Phasma disappeared from the threshold and left them with one solitary escape-- the smoke was blinding, and Finn could feel his mother wheezing as she clutched him desperately to her chest, her ribs expanding in stuttering gasps of breath. He was doing his best to hold his own breath, the smoke burning his throat and sending him back into the chorus of tiny, sobbing voices while the parents started to make their choice._

_Once one man stood and pulled his daughter out into the night, away from the flames and gasping for air, all the rest followed in a flood of desperation. Flushed out from their last safe place and right into Captain Phasma’s hands._

_Everything was on fire-- the huts, the brushland, the city in the near distance-- a dark copse of odd trees were the only point of darkness against the rapidly dwindling daylight. The trees were so tall, Finn couldn’t see where they ended through his swimming, stinging field of vision, but he focused on them. He tried to think of something that wasn’t what was about to happen._

_Rough, gloved hands pried him away from his mother’s chest. He remembered screaming for her. He remembered her screaming for him, but there was never any sound in this part of the memory. It was just hopeless agony._

_He reached for her, kicking blindly against the armored chest and fighting against the hold on him. He watched as his mother launched herself forward despite the blasters trained on her and all the other lined up parents being harvested for their children. She launched herself three desperate strides toward Finn’s outstretched hands, and a stormtrooper stepped forward and smashed her in the temple with the butt of their blaster. She was knocked to the ground, bleeding and screaming, tearing at the ground at the feet of the stormtroopers who stole him away._

_Her face was bloody and her hair was haloed, backlit with warm red and orange firelight, watching him with tears in her eyes. Her hope was gone, Finn could feel the light going out in her chest, even before Phasma gave the order._

_“Fire at will. No survivors.”_

_The blaster fire lit up the night as each person was cut down._

_His mother was blasted apart, bloodied and limp on the dusty ground-- the whole of the town smelled like cauterized flesh, death and smoke._

_He didn’t remember screaming again, but he was sure he must’ve. Finn’s throat was hoarse enough to taste blood, but all he could remember were the hot, endless tears that streamed down his sooty, filthy face._

He startled awake as a shuddering sob ripped itself out of his gut, all the way past his lips and into the dank air of their tunnel barracks. 

“Whoa whoa, it’s okay.” a familiar voice rumbled, his breath warm and close to his ear. The barely-there touch of a gentle hand brushed down his scarred spine, and Finn vaulted himself up to sit on the edge of their cot from where he’d been curled into Poe’s chest. “It was a dream, Finn, you’re here with me now--”

Another sob broke the quiet, Finn shaking his head for some way to communicate that this was pretty damn far from okay, slapping a hand over his mouth to stifle the broken, ragged noises. 

They had been training their bond for nearly week at that point. Finn had thought that they were doing well, learning to communicate through it without constantly being in each other’s heads-- but, somehow Poe still seemed to always be awake when he startled out of a dream. He always woke _somebody_ up with his cries after these kriffing things, but sometimes, it seemed as if Poe was just waiting. Like he wasn’t sleeping at all, and just waiting to comfort Finn when _this_ happened. 

Poe pressed a soft hand to the center of his back, over the patched up mess of scar tissue, before sliding his touch up to the back of Finn’s neck. There it stayed, grounding him into the present moment. It was one simple touch, too tender to bear without whimpering at the feeling. It was too distant, though. Distant enough to leave him feeling a little cold, and a little like a bother-- but he knew why Poe always started this way. 

He wanted him to know that he could move away if he wanted. That he had a choice. Poe didn’t know what he dreamt about, and he didn’t want Finn to feel cornered ever again. So, he started comforting him from a distance-- one hand on his back, and a careful nudge in their bond, asking Finn wordlessly what he needed.

Finn whimpered, his gaze still flooded with hot tears, his chest heaving and shoulders shaking as he pressed back into Poe’s touch, trying to get himself under control before somebody else woke up and worried. 

Poe made his own, helpless little sound, and took Finn’s movement as his cue. He sat behind him, bracketing Finn with his legs and draping his bare chest over Finn’s hunched back, one arm wrapping loosely around his middle while his newly healed hand pressed over his heart. His weight was reassuring, and his muttered Yavinic words were unintelligible, but melodic and calming. 

He loved him more than he could possibly say. 

He didn’t know how long he and Poe sat curled at the edge of their bed, letting Finn cry until his face pounded and his eyes burned. The background of snores and sighs and squeaking cot springs reminded him-- he was no longer a child. He wasn’t helpless and alone, or clawing for freedom. He had a second chance at a life. 

Poe’s heartbeat thumped against the back of his ribs, and Finn finally took a deep breath and sighed out, deflating as his frenzied mind returned to his body. He reached out with his side of their bond and took a tender hold of Poe’s center, wrapping him up by way of a silent _thank you_. 

His pilot let out a sigh of his own, leaning into the energetic touch and kissing a trail down from the base of his neck to the center of his spine. _You don’t have to thank me_.

 _How’re you doing in there?_ Poe’s voice came through the bond, much more easily than it had back in their tiny cells on the Star Destroyer. _That one seemed more intense than usual._

_I don’t know. It was bad._

_Wanna talk about it?_

He always offered. Every time, Poe offered and Finn refused. It was just too much to say out loud. Maybe one day he’d tell him everything. Just like one day, maybe Poe would tell him the whole story of his time being tortured by Hux. By Hux, or Ren, or any of the other things that Poe hadn’t told him yet. 

They both had things that they kept to themselves. They weren’t even _secrets_ , not really. Just exercises in patience and trust. Finn was grateful for them in moments like these. 

He raised a shaky hand and squeezed Poe’s-- the one over his fluttering heart-- before lifting it to his lips.

 _How about some fresh air?_

Poe hummed in reply before he slipped out from behind him, tossing a shirt to him in the dim blue light of the barracks. It made Finn huff a quiet laugh, and Poe’s tired grin was genuine and bright in the darkness.

It was too hot to be _alive_ on Yavin during the day. At least, that was what Finn and Rose thought. They were the ones sweating through their clothes with all the rest of their weary soldiers when the midday sun took over the farm. Poe and Kes, obviously, did fine-- so did Rey, at least with the heat, if not the oppressive jungle humidity. The dry season was apparently _mild_ this year. The idea of it getting any hotter than it was made Finn feel woozy and think of wandering the Jakku sandwastes. 

At night, though, things were different. 

“C’mon-- let’s go for a walk.” Poe took his hand in the cool night air, his voice still slightly raspy with exhaustion, and started them off toward the treeline “I want to show you something.”

Yavin was beautiful at night. Beautiful in a way Finn could properly appreciate without the sun glaring down on him. 

The other moons of the system lit up the sky, delicate smatterings of distant stars and other planets filling the void between them. It cast a wash of silvery blue light across the grasses of Dameron Fields, making them look more like a calm sea than a field of solid earth. The jungle was alive with sounds and smells, tiny flickering specks from lightning bugs seeming to bring the starlight to them, even under the canopy. 

Everywhere he looked were swirling patterns of violet shadows and green foliage, glowing with the dappled blue light of the moons overhead. The air was still hot and thick, but it carried the heady scent of incense and flowers and the invigorating freshness of running water. 

He could almost shake the bone deep sorrow from his shoulders while letting Poe grip his hand and guide him along the jungle path. 

It was so different from the dusty streets strewn with corpses, bustling with chaos and the stench of blood--

“Finn?” 

They had stopped walking. Nearby, there was a waterfall-- he could hear the comforting static of rushing water and the way it landed on smooth stone. It settled something inside him to hear it, something he couldn’t explain. The trees had changed, too. They grew every which way, twisted and curved by their unorthodox foundation. Roots grew up and around, and occasionally split apart the series of small, pyramid shaped structures Poe had brought him to. 

“Are these the ancestral temples you were telling me about?” he finally cleared his throat enough to say, a note of choked awe in his voice. 

The other man only nodded, stepping in close to Finn and raising his knuckles up to his lips. 

He looked like he’d stepped straight out of the Force itself-- his hair was tousled from sleep, that one curl that Finn loved falling over his forehead in just the right way. His skin was tanned deeper than he had ever seen it after all the long days on his tropical homeworld, and he glowed under the moons, the flicker of the lightning bugs reflecting in his warm brown eyes. 

Finn had mentioned the family temples of Yavin several times-- more out of curiosity than anything else. Out of concern for Poe, who sometimes seemed like he could go hours without even breathing, as if being home after so long away felt like living a life underwater. Finn had hoped it would give him a reprieve to visit this ancient place. He wanted Poe to feel like he could breathe again without drowning. 

He hadn’t realized just how curious he had been to _see it_ for himself. He had no idea how much easier it actually would be to _breathe_ out here. 

Poe started a slow walk down the rows, ambling but purposeful. There was a worn out path in the ground beneath their feet, carefully cleared by generations of people who had walked them before. Kes had explained to him once how the first people of Yavin, after the eradication of the Massassi, had lived in these small pyramids. People had lived there, loved there, raised families right there in the jungle-- they died and were buried there. The Force energy was potent and overwhelmingly _accepting_ around the temples, permeating the air with a warm kindness. He could feel presences, curious and welcoming him as someone new, judged and found to have no ill will toward their home. 

There were generations of families haunting this jungle, watching out for their living loved ones-- Finn was almost jealous that Poe got to have such support and connection. But, immediately, Finn also felt the same support of these passed people. He felt lighter, as if a hundred hands were carrying his dream so he could take a breath. 

Finn followed until they finally reached the Dameron family temple. Poe let out a measured breath and struck a match. 

He lit the candles on either side of the low, square door, muttering to himself in Yavinic while Finn simply watched, transfixed by the flame as his stomach flipped. 

Internally, he shook himself, flexing his hands at the sight of a small, dome-like structure and firelight on Poe’s face-- no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t shake the memory of his mother’s eyes, the flames licking into their little hut--

“We don’t have to go in.” Poe reached into their bond, like he was knocking on the door to Finn’s soul, feeling the anxiety, the claustrophobia— Finn opened the proverbial door to Poe, who was smiling reassuringly up at him from where he had settled in to sit. He patted the grass beside him. 

The grass was soft, and Poe draped an arm around him while the jungle continued a melodic soundtrack for their moment of peace. The candles stopped being frightening after a few deep breaths, and became damn near _comforting--_ to see something that had been so traumatic and terrible in his childhood be controlled and useful where he sat as an adult. 

Poe lazily played with Finn’s fingers, idly resting with eyes closed and dark lashes splayed across his cheeks while he waited for Finn to say something. 

Finn could feel it. He was waiting for him.

“I left the jacket on Endor.” he blurted out after a long few moments. It ached to say it out loud, like a confession, and he couldn’t be too sure why he said it right then, but he knew he wanted to talk about something that could pass for normal. 

Poe’s eyes cracked open to squint at him “Please tell me you’re not having nightmares about that.” his lips tilted into a half a confused smile. 

Finn shrugged “No, but… I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m talking about-- I’ve never been this tired in my kriffing life, Poe.” 

“Well, whatever you do, don’t stop _trying_ to sleep. A little birdie told me that that can land you in the medbay.” it was a joke. He even had the cheek to shoot him a wink, and Finn rolled his eyes fondly.

Finn remembered the fateful morning that he’d gone running to Private Room 12, the morning he’d looked down at Poe, small and frail, after he’d collapsed. He knew it was a joke, but he still took careful note of the deep circles still under the other man’s eyes before allowing himself to crack a smile. 

Poe was looking at him, studying his expression, caressing the center of his energy through the bond and smoothing out all the jagged edges he could find. Poe tried to ease his pain when he could. He wanted to ask, Finn could feel it, palpable in the air between them. 

He wanted to ask what he dreamt about. 

He pictured his mother’s face, bloody and frightened, watching him disappear into the hands of the enemy, and he felt sick. 

“Can I ask you something?”

“You already know you can.” Poe replied, half-teasing. 

Finn swallowed “How did your mother die?” 

He didn’t look up at his face, but he could feel the confused, visceral jolt on Poe’s side of the bond. 

“Wha… I, um…” he cleared his throat, fiddling with the chain around his neck “She used to take missions with Luke and Han and Leia. She ended up on guard detail for the Bespin diplomat. She was the only one who saw the blaster in time, she… she jumped in front of the assassin, and she was shot.” he was pretty calm about it, considering. “I was so young, Dad didn’t even tell me what actually happened-- not till I was older. I had to fight him on it for years before he finally said it.” he looked up, then, fixing Finn with bright, glimmering eyes “Why’re we talking about this, Finn?”

“My mother died trying to hide me from the First Order.” it came out more breath than sound, and Poe’s light in their bond squeezed a little tighter around him, sending a pulse of sympathy and warmth. It felt like a hug-- a wordless support for the times when there weren’t words to say.

The waterfall fell in the distance, and the air was thick with the smell of incense, and lightning bugs lit up the shadows between the trees. Finn did his best to press his lips into a tight, thin line and refused to cry again. His face still throbbed, his eyes still stung, and he didn’t want to say a damn thing more about it.

“I don’t want to say anymore about it, I just… I don’t know what to do with this mess of memories in my head, Poe--” 

He lifted a hand to cup his cheek, holding his gaze like he was making the most solemn promise in the galaxy. 

“You don’t have to know yet. You don’t-- you can just, just take your time, and talk when you need to, and we’ll work it all out. One day, you’ll sleep again, and you’ll feel a little more normal, and you’ll be able to put all of these memories in their rightful place so you can _rest_.”

It settled something inside him just that little bit more, to think that one day he could do that-- he could put these memories to bed in the past and remember them at a distance without the help of ghostly Damerons lifting up the heaviest of the burden. Or the Dameron in front of him smoothing out his edges.

He took a deep, grounding breath of jungle air, and sat side by side with Poe. He looked down at his hands, pockmarked with Phasma’s scars-- from _The Lace_ \-- and thought about all the chains he had had to break when he killed her. 

He had done what he had to do to protect the people he loved. He shook himself clean of his own desire for vengeance before she went limp against him-- right? Or was he still desperate for blood on his hands, wishing he’d let her die slower? We’re these dreams evidence that he’d fallen to the Dark side? Without anyone knowing? Did he fall? For the sake of his mother, and the callous, uncaring kill order Phasma had given-- 

He ran the pad of his fingertip over the distinct, Lace-like scars in his palm and felt the raised skin there. Poe watched him for a long moment, still holding him through the bond, and Finn didn’t have the tears to cry _again_ , but his throat still felt tight and dry when the other man slipped his hand into Finn’s. He obscured his view of his scars, covering them completely before he intertwined their fingers and let them sit in silence again. 

He scooted up to him across the grass until they were flush, hip to hip with their entwined hands resting in his lap. Finn dropped his heavy head onto the other man’s shoulder, too tired to keep it up and aching to get the two of them as physically close as they were through the Force.

“Poe?” 

“Yeah?” 

He focused on the feeling of his pilot’s energy, swirling and warm in his chest, and reached his own energy back out to Poe, braiding the two of them together until the sensation took the breath out of their lungs for a long moment-- nothing in the galaxy but the two of them

“I love you.” he breathed. 

Poe squeezed his hand, the other clutching at the ring around his neck. 

“I’m sorry I asked about your mom, I didn’t…” 

“No, don’t be.” Finn felt a kiss pressed to his hairline “I don’t talk about her a lot, I was just caught off guard, I… of course, I miss her, but a lot of my grief is actually Dad's, y'know?” He felt Poe shift where he was pressed against him, a metallic clink of a chain coming off from around his neck. 

He held the small silver band in his hand, and Finn could feel the Force energy coming off of it in waves, just looking at it in the dappled moonlight. The memories of passion, of soft light and dark nights, war and peace and _love_. There were promises in that ring-- of love and protection and sickness and health. There was hope for a fresh start. 

“I have so much to remember my mother by, Finn. I can feel her in the ring, the tree, and in the temple, and in my _house--_ I swear, Dad hasn’t even taken her toothbrush out of the refresher.” Poe’s voice went a little hoarse, shaky. A pulsing sensation of _nervousness_ rocked the link between them, and Finn straightened up to look Poe in the face.

He smiled, squeezing his hand around the ring and chain. “She would’ve liked you. She would’ve taken you in even faster than Dad, I can _feel_ it in the Force.” 

He swallowed hard and held out his hand “I want you to hold onto this-- I know it’s not _your_ mom’s, but maybe… maybe having something from another woman out there-- who died to protect her kid-- maybe it could help you feel a little more...” _Safe,_ he didn’t say it, but Finn could hear him thinking, _I just want you to feel safe_. 

There was more to it, he knew, when he let Poe slip the chain around his neck and felt the warm weight of it next to his heart, but it wasn’t overwhelming. He breathed, deep and full, and Poe was right. He felt, somehow, protected.

_Loved._

“Thank you.” he grinned, feeling the closest thing to relief he’d had since killing Phasma. 

“I love you.” Poe said back, his own grin from ear to ear and his eyes reflecting the glow of the jungle. “Besides,” he relaxed, shrugging with feigned nonchalance, “it’s too hot to give you another jacket.” 

Finn was startled into a genuine laugh by the bad joke, and felt closer to _home_ than he’d felt since being taken by the First Order. He wasn't alone, like he had been after his mother was killed and he was stripped of his identity. 

He had built himself his own life. He was held up by a family he had made himself. He had a love bound into his chest as strong as the Force itself. 

He had rescued a pilot, and rescued himself. He had given them both a second chance. A second chance that he couldn’t waste.

Finn would find his mother. He added that promise to the years of promises on the ring around his neck, hoping that wherever in the galaxy she was-- wherever they had come from-- she could hear him. 

His dream slinked back into the recesses of his memory-- not gone, not for too long, but for that moment, Finn let himself just _rest_.

He cupped his pilot’s jaw and kissed his smiling lips, and listened to the sounds of the jungle. Poe pressed him into the grass and chased away the last of his shakes and the sorrow in his bones, replacing them with his lips and hands. Finn guided their every move, holding him so close that the chords of their bond sang, Shara's ring pressed between their hearts. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter makes me sooooo happy. There's just something so important about a bunch of young people getting to hang out and be young, ya know? And, what can I say, no matter introverted I am, quarantine has me missing my friends... 
> 
> BUT, I have a question for y'all lovely readers. I haven't put any smut in here. There's schmoopy love and there's some sexual tension-- but these boys are young and wild and FORCE BOND SEX, you guys. THE POTENTIAL. I don't think I'm going to put any smut into this fic specifically (it just doesn't suit the flow of the series right now and it's not important to the plot), but it is insinuated in some parts. My question is this: if I were to do a oneshot series similar to this one (this would be later, obv) where I do an "under the cut" version of all the parts of the kes verse picking up from where I cut off those scenes, would you read it? would you like it? I think it has a lot of potential to be sweet and sexy and funny, but it's just a little thought bouncing around my brain. Let me know in the comments below, if you want to. Thanks! 
> 
> As always let me know what you think of the chapter <3333 you are such wonderful, beautiful people, and I wouldn't be here without you! Here's some Finnpoe cuteness for your day!

Whether the bastard had died on that Star Destroyer or not-- even after all the mental scar tissue that had built up over his memories of the Finalizer-- Poe still felt Kylo Ren’s tarnish on his mind since he’d come home. It took him a while to properly consider it all. He wondered what had triggered this strange and horrible feeling Yavin was giving him. But then, he had a _headache_.

He had that headache, and he understood what was happening.

He brushed it off, took what meds he could get for it with minimal questions-- he didn’t do that until he _knew_ , though.

It was a sick sense of deja vu. Poe was tired enough that his limbs felt heavy and stiff sometimes, and the phantom aches of a probe in his head sometimes pressed at the backs of his eyes. His skin was too tight-- it didn’t feel like his own, like he didn’t _belong_ on Dameron Fields. Even in the kitchen he’d grown up in, or in his childhood bedroom. Sometimes he woke up from his own nightmares with a strange sense of _relief_ that he would never admit to. 

He dreamt of Hux, not Ren. He woke up with the image of Finn, glowing dimly with the apparatus of The Lace fixed into his skin, flashing in his mind. He would have to strangle his gasp of pain whenever he woke, the crunch of his bones under Hux’s boot echoing in his ears. He dreamt of Crait exploding all because of him, destroying everything he'd worked for and everyone he loved-- At least, though, dreaming of that reminded him that he _wasn’t_ still dreaming of Ren. At least, he could say that he’d come _that_ far. 

He had thought for all those months before The Ambush that he was coping, and that the bond was enough to keep him sleeping and sane. Finn was stronger with the Force than him-- he didn’t need to be awake like Poe did, focusing with all his might on the connection between them in order to hold Poe’s nightmares at bay. 

No matter how hard he trained, or how many times he tried to explain it to Leia, Poe couldn’t do it like any of the rest of them seemed to. 

Every time Poe fell asleep while trying to keep Finn’s memories from waking him up, he would startle awake to find the other man sobbing in his arms, calling out in his sleep-- _something_ that Poe couldn’t stop. 

It had been a few days since the last nightmare. Since the settling weight of his mother’s ring went from him to Finn, and his heart raced every time he caught a glimpse of the chain shining around his neck. They had gone out to the temple, and fallen asleep under the shadow of his ancestors. 

That had also been the last time Poe slept. He was able to _rest--_ he laid down and closed his eyes and stuff. He wasn’t about to repeat his past mistakes too much, he’d just get clobbered by the Doc and scare his dad again-- he just didn’t quite _sleep._ It was worth it to be able to hold Finn at night, feeling the peace in their bond, and see his eyes look a little brighter in the morning. 

It was worth it. 

But Poe could barely keep his eyes open in this kriffing meeting. 

“Poe?” 

Of all people, it was Luke who brought him back from hyperspace. 

Everybody was staring at him. Finn was getting more suspicious of his sleepiness, and his concern tapped on his side of the bond more insistently than usual. Leia and Luke were both studying him with that _Force User X Ray Vision_ , and Dad looked like he’d swallowed something sour. Whether that was because Poe was doing something concerning, or because Luke Skywalker was trying to speak to him was anybody’s guess.

Rey’s seat was empty. 

Rey’s seat had a tendency to be empty. Poe fought the urge to roll his eyes-- he could _empathize_ , he told himself, or at least, he could _sympathize_. Based on what Luke had told them, of _course_ , because Rey hadn’t said a damn thing since they landed. Poe swallowed his bitterness. Even if this whole Lone Wolf act was getting a little tired. 

“Sorry?” he finally cleared his throat and addressed the pairs of eyes. 

“You were falling asleep in your hand, Poe.” Kes deadpanned. 

He felt all the eyes on him intensify like laser beams, scanning him up and down, and a hot blush bloomed in his cheeks-- “Sorry. Rough night.” He explained it lightning fast. Too fast. 

He didn’t have to look over in order to _feel_ Finn’s eyebrow cock up, the energy in the link between them tightening, the knocking on Poe’s door going from insistent to frighteningly silent. Finn was just studying him. He just hoped his slip-up didn’t show on his face, schooling his expression into something appropriately bland and apologetic. 

Kes looked like he was about to lean in further, and the thought made Poe’s stomach clench. Finn’s watchful gaze was one thing, but he’d _never_ escape Dad-- 

“We were just about done. How about you two take the day?” Leia _saved_ him, and by the way her smile tilted her lips, she knew it “You both look like you could use it.” 

Honestly, she wasn’t wrong. With only 23 soldiers in their little Resistance, the work that usually could be easily done in shifts with adequate downtime became a constant whirlwind of work and strategy and organization--

Poe wasn’t just tired because of his nightmares, or trying to protect Finn. He was worked into the ground-- they all were. 

Getting out of that kitchen was a blur of Poe definitely not embarrassing himself with stuttered, half-rebuttals about all the work they really should get started on-- they needed to take out that base on Yavin III, sooner rather than later, and once Poe had a couple ships up and running in the barn-- 

“Poe, shut your mouth and rest for a minute, okay?” Finn rolled his eyes fondly at him and started tugging him to the door when Luke stopped them. 

“Boys. You’ll find Rey out by the Great Temple-- she doesn’t know I know that she’s there, but…” he sighed, pursing his lips like he understood something that he wasn’t happy about. Poe knew the feeling. “Just tell her that I’m ready when she is.” 

Finn said something to the affirmative before pushing Poe out the door and rounding on him with skeptical eyes. 

Poe was not staring at his lips. His gaze might be, periodically, slipping down to glance at Finn’s full, slightly chapped and definitely annoyed lips. _Glancing_ , but not _staring_. 

“So, it was a rough night? You didn’t say anything to me about that.” 

“Yeah-- well, it just didn’t come up, and you looked so…” he looked so soft and sleepy. He had woken up that morning looking more like himself than he had since Phasma. The bacta ointments had worked wonders on the scars across his hairline and neck… they were just thin, light lines of a healing pattern in his beautiful skin. Poe was just glad a part of him was healing. 

He hoped the sleep helped. 

He didn’t know how to put it into words, and instead just opened the bond to let the two of them tangle for a long moment. Finn’s suspicious face melted into something more like himself, and he chewed the inside of his cheek contemplatively while he studied Poe. Poe, with his back against the door and Finn so close that he’d barely have to lean in to kiss him. 

“I love you.” he didn’t say it to get out of the conversation. Really. He was tired enough to feel just a little tipsy, the heat of his homeworld blasting down from the sky to a degree that even made Poe a little too hot. 

“Nuh no. You’re not getting out of this one that easy. We’ll talk once we can get out of the damn heat--” he took Poe’s hand, intending to keep on leading him in that way he did, but Poe was sleepy. And warm. And definitely in love. 

“Hey-- we’ve got the afternoon to ourselves.” he stopped in his tracks in the middle of the garden and made Finn turn to face him “How about we find Rose. And we find Rey. And then we take a little field trip?” 

Finn just looked at him, nonplussed and starting to sweat. 

Poe just knocked on their bond again, sending what he hoped felt like a cool breeze his way. 

“Okay.” he finally sighed, and Poe couldn’t help but grin.

“Okay?”

“ _Okay_ , Poe.” 

This was a good idea. 

* * *

“Poe, where the Hell are we going?” Rose called out from damn near a parsec behind the group. Finn lagged with her, both of them melting in the humid jungle. Poe rolled his eyes fondly. The heat made his tired bones and stiff muscles feel lax, and the familiar path under his feet was reassuring. 

But maybe he didn’t really consider how long and winding it was. 

“Not much further!” He called back, winking at Rey-- she was much closer behind him, her eyes regaining just a little more of their usual spark when he caught her gaze. 

He must’ve only taken a dozen more steps around the rocky outcropping, bending into the trees and carving out a space that was all sun and sky. 

Poe looked down into the wide open cavern in the ground and felt a swell of warmth in his chest. This was the cave pond where his mom taught him to swim, where he’d grown up cooling off in the stifling dry seasons, and where he’d disappeared to with friends when he and Dad fought. There was a stable jetty of solid rock jutting out into the deep, rippling pool. The waterfall that emptied into it sent up a cool spray that invigorated his lungs and sent fresh blood through his tired veins. Vines slipped over into the pool, and soft green plants drew along the back of the cavern where it was drenched in sunlight and mist. 

He looked down on it, and he barely felt Ren’s headache. It still held traces of _home_ , only a little bit tarnished. 

The rope ladder was old, but well maintained, and he led the way for his friends into the sun soaked cavern. 

Finn was the first one in the water, wasting no time in stripping off his shirt and pants and tugging Rey into the water with him. She shrieked with laughter in a way that echoed off the cave walls and up into the jungle, making Poe grin. 

He hadn’t heard Rey genuinely laugh in an _age_. 

Soon, they were all varying degrees of naked and soaked, the water practically steaming against their overheated skin. Poe’s curls hung down in his eyes with the weight of the water, shoving his head under the thundering waterfall. He disappeared under the ripples and tugged at Rose’s ankles even while she insisted on not getting her hair wet. 

Rey couldn’t quite swim, settling for riding around on Finn’s back-- Poe called her a mynock for attaching herself like that, and she splashed him harder than the waterfall had. She and Rose spent most of their time sitting in the shallows of the pool, laughing, talking and occasionally splashing. 

Soon, Poe was too tired to swim much longer. His body ached from the tiny cot they slept in, and the sunny patch of rock jutting out into the pool was calling his name. He pressed a sloppy kiss to the scars on Finn’s back, squeezing his sides before hauling himself up onto the rock. 

He settled himself under the full power of the Yavin sun-- a superpower only really gifted to those who were born and raised there-- and felt the cool water evaporate straight from his skin to the air. His hair was tousled and wild, away from his face and haloing his head with rapidly drying curls. He could hear his friends, laughing and probably making fun of him for his sunbathing, but he was too content. 

He didn’t dare open his eyes-- not with the sun right there, and the moment so perfect, and his eyelids so heavy with the past few days of dozing. 

Poe was asleep in minutes.

* * *

Finn shot a glance over to Poe, turning his head at the soft, firm pressure of lips at the top of his lightsaber scar—just in time to watch his pilot’s tanned body slip under the surface and glide over to the edge of the pool where a rock hung out over the water.

He scanned his gaze over Poe’s body for a long moment— completely _innocently_ , like he was searching for injuries. Not because he was soaking wet, glowing in the sun, or effortlessly pulling himself up onto the dark stone. It definitely wasn’t because his ass was on full display and making Finn’s throat go dry.

He cleared his throat, and swam through the (thankfully) cold water to the waterfall and back, letting his heart rate come back down before he joined Rose and Rey in the shallows.

“When were you gonna tell us, then?” Rose grinned as he waded up sit beside his two friends.

They were smiling. Conspiratorially. Like they _knew_ something.

Finn made a face. “What? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Rey was the one to point to the chain settled against his bare chest, leaning forward and taking the small silver ring in her hand. Her expression changed once she held it in her hand, from her teasing smirk to something _different_. Not shocked, maybe, but still somehow awestruck. Finn couldn't help his grin at her. 

“Whoa.” She breathed, no doubt feeling the powerful waves of Force energy that the tiny band managed to emanate. It sat against his skin like it belonged there—Poe was right. It helped.

“You two get married or something and just not tell anybody?”

It was Finn’s turn to laugh, the half-teased question startling him into it “No. No, it was Shara's ring-- Poe gave it to me. It’s because the energy’s so strong and protective—it might help my nightmares.” He cast a quick glance over to the man on the rock before turning back to Rey and Rose’s wondering eyes “But, I think he has more to do with the nightmares than Shara does.”

It seemed like every time he woke up, Poe was there. Of course he was _there,_ but he was already _awake_ , ready and waiting with a hand on his back and a nudge in their bond. But sometimes, more than anything, it felt like he was _already_ _there_ in the bond, trying to bodily hold the nightmares at bay.

Like Finn used to do for him, after Ren. Before Hux and _Crait_. 

He told Rey and Rose as much, watching Rey’s forehead crease into a frown. Rose pursed her lips in a way that said she was spending too much time with Dr. Kalonia.

“He fell asleep in a meeting this morning.” He confessed “He said it was a rough night, but I didn’t feel him move an inch, let alone have any dreams. But, then again…”

“ _You_ didn’t have any dreams either.” Rey nodded,sharing his suspicions. They both studied the pilot, dead to the world, deeply asleep on a hot rock like he was one of those cold blooded lizards.

Rose piped up, shaking her head “If he ends up in the medbay for sleep deprivation _again_ , Kal will murder him—”

“ _I’m_ gonna murder him." Finn replied, joking despite the knot of anxiety that was starting to tighten again in his gut "I'm gonna talk to him. It's not gonna happen again.”

Rey raised a dry eyebrow that sent a curl of annoyance through him.

“Oh _please_ , because you’re just a _wizard_ at communication, Rey.” he snapped a little, "Luke says hi, by the way."

She bit her lip and dropped both his gaze and her grip on the ring, and Finn cursed his sharpness.

Luckily, she let it lie. The last thing any of them wanted to do was shatter the fragile peace of this quiet afternoon. The waterfall’s roar was static to soothe their overactive minds, jungle creatures called to each other and jumped through the trees, and Poe finally slept. Finn reflected on the relatively easy night's sleep he'd had-- that he somehow still managed to have every once in a while, despite everything-- and wondered how many of those nights he'd had Poe to thank. 

_I might have to thank him,_ he thought, _but I also need to smack him for treating himself like this. Again._

Finn took a deep breath of the mist and the potent sunlight, and he took Rey’s hand, squeezing a silent apology. Rose rolled her eyes at the two of them— _no_ , at _all_ _three_ of them and their ridiculous _Force-conversations_ , she insisted.

They sat in the cavern for a long few moments before Rose said “Someone should go check if the c _ommando_ _Commander’s_ still alive over there.”

Rey snorted, and Finn cracked a grin—Rose was _definitely_ spending too much time with Dr. Kal. It was _great_.

“I can check from here.” He bragged, nudging the bond and feeling Poe’s strong, steady heartbeat. Even in his sleep, he nudged back—more like a swat. It said _what d’you want? I’m trying to sleep here_. Finn chuckled to himself “Oh, he’s alive. He’s fine.”

“Oh yeah, you and your cute little Force Bond, Finn—” Rey teased.

“More than a Force Bond, you’re wearing a _wedding_ _ring!”_ Rose giggled, and the two of them proceeded to tease him mercilessly until it was time to wake up Poe and head back. He fiddled with the ring and felt the memories in it, like Shara Bey herself was reaching out to tell him something that he just couldn’t hear.

He ignored it. It was just for his nightmares. It was a replacement for the jacket, it was temporary probably, and Poe wouldn’t have parted with it otherwise.

It was his mother’s wedding ring. He couldn't help the memories that it held onto-- that didn't mean...

Still, though-- he wouldn’t lend that to just _anyone_.

 _I guess it makes sense, then_ he thought, _that he gave it to me._

Finn bit down on his grin, and put the idea to the back of his mind.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Long time, no update! 
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who is commenting and sending love my way for this fic and this verse! You folks are simply wonderful. 
> 
> Okay, here's the thing: I put in a little OC here. I like her. Her name is Qui'ana. She's Kes's childhood friend, and she runs the foundling home as well as being the midwife for their corner of Yavin. She's cute and nice, and this is the point of her-- She is the conduit between the base and the Yavinic community. I didn't want to write a million OCs for the entire Yavinic town (it would be a lot of work for little oneshot characters), but Qui'ana is going to be pretty cool and serves a good purpose and is gonna be pretty important for a few things. I hope you like her. I do. 
> 
> If you don't like her, she's not gonna be around a TON, so you'll be fine. 
> 
> I also changed the chapter limit! That's because I'm messing with my order and adding a couple different things and shifting stuff around. It might be 20 chapters, a little shorter or a little longer, but it'll hopefully be done by the end of the month/semester! 
> 
> Please please PLEASE let me know what you think of this chapter-- putting in an OC is scary. 
> 
> Enjoy, and be safe!

At the beginning of the season, up until just a few days ago, they’d called it _mild._ It was the most common small talk on their side of Skygazer Hill-- everyone just couldn’t _believe_ how cool of a dry season it was.

Now, even Kes was starting to sweat. It was almost as blazing as the season Poe was born-- Shara had spent that whole last month desperate for the recirculated air of a cockpit, the cold vacuum of space outside. Anything but the suffocating heat of the sun beating down on them, every day bringing them slowly toward the torrential rains of the monsoon, the humidity climbing and climbing. 

Luckily for them all, she wouldn’t _fit_ in the A Wing if she tried. That left her to mope, her sweaty curls sticking to her forehead and piled high off her neck, while she sat in a cold bathtub and idly rubbed at her belly. 

They thought she had a whole month left, but Poe wasn’t having that, and ended up born at the peak of the heat. He had always been in a hurry, so in hindsight Kes supposed it shouldn’t have shocked them. He’d been in a rush every season since. 

They were rapidly approaching Poe’s 30th birthday, and Kes wasn’t sure how he felt about that. 

Shara’s tree waved at him from the edge of the garden, like it always did, and he cleared his throat against the wash of fresh grief that swept over him. 

After 22 years without her physically with him, Kes had learned a couple things about grief. But the most glaring was that it came in cycles. From the peak of the dry season to the start of the rains, he missed her more potently. He could wake up in the morning and swear he felt her weight beside him. He could sit in the quiet of his garden and confuse the rustle of her leaves for the way she used to hum in the early mornings. 

Kes shook the memories out of his head-- the heat must’ve been getting to him. He took a deep breath and looked out over the barn and the jungle for the last time that he’d be able to be outside that day, before the sun rose too high to bear. Everyone else was already in the house or underground, using the tunnels and not daring to surface into the oven that was the open air. 

That would turn out to be for the best, once afternoon rolled around and there was a knock at the door.

They were sorting through the last of their rations for the week, trying to organize a transport into town in a way that wouldn’t draw massive amounts of attention—One older widower, living by himself on a farm on the outskirts of town, purchasing enough food to feed a battalion of troops? Apparently, Kes couldn’t just walk into the bazaar and do the shopping himself. 

Poe made a face at the idea. It was the one with one cocked eyebrow and purposefully dull brown eyes that said _I’ve never heard such a terrible plan in my life-- have you actually gone senile?_ (Kes wanted to refute the look by recounting any of his son’s _very safe and well-researched_ plans in the past, but he couldn’t. Poe had his lips pursed just the way Shara used to do, and it dried up every thought in his head.)

 _Okay-- supplies. We were talking about supplies,_ he reminded himself, having to shake himself back into the matter at hand, again. 

Finn actually _laughed_ —he thought Kes was _joking_ before his anxious gaze flicked back and forth between Kes and his son and his smile turned into something more incredulous. “What? No, you can’t just-- you might as well stick a giant Resistance flag in your roof.”

Even BB-8 sounded like they sighed, pointedly turning their lens away and rolling back out into the garden.

“Kes, d’you have a minute? We need to talk about medical supplies—this quiet spell from the First Order can’t last _too_ long. We have to replenish some stock we lost in the Ambush.” Leia rounded the corner from the loft where Dr. Kal had set up shop. She paused at the sight of them, surrounded by boxes of rations that had been spared from the Ambush. They were getting emptier and emptier by the day. Her lips quirked into a small smile. “Are you three _also_ trying to figure out the supply situation?

“Hopefully, between the four of us, we’ll manage.”

“Yeah, _without_ alerting the entire First Order to the secret base under their feet.” Poe scrubbed a hand down his tired face. Finn just dropped onto the sofa, chewing his lip in thought.

“Maybe Rey would have an idea, if anyone could find her.”

“The only idea she’s had for the past three weeks is how to hide from Luke Skywalker—” Poe grumbled. 

This had been a topic of conversation before. Even Kes could sense the tense, complicated swirl of emotions swirling over his boys— over Rey’s friends— and feel the Force ripple with their hurt and confusion. 

He couldn’t help. There were still so many details that these kids hadn’t divulged about that Star Destroyer, and Kes couldn’t help until they did. 

Watching the two of them start to fume, helplessness sank into his bones. 

Finn was the one pursing his lips now, looking up at Poe with what looked like the last of his patience-- at Poe or Rey, Kes couldn’t be sure. “She’s going through a hard time right now—”

“We are living in a hard time right now, Finn!” Poe cried, gesturing wildly at the garden door like Kylo Ren’s ghost was on the other side. “All of us. And we haven’t fucked off to the jungle yet--”

“Poe.” Kes couldn’t help the chiding tone that slipped out of his mouth-- an old dad’s force of habit. Poe didn’t seem to like it much. 

Leia cut in before his son could say whatever scathing thing was supposed to go with the expression on his face, diffusing the tension with a jedi’s skill. “She knows that you’re all here for her when she’s ready-- in the meantime, Luke has been keeping track of her.” 

Poe rolled his eyes right into his hand as he scrubbed an exasperated palm over his face, and Finn looked about ready to fuck off to the jungle, too. 

Kes couldn’t hold back his scoff “It's more likely that we’ll need someone to keep track of him, given his track record.”

Before Leia could refute him, there was a knock at the door. 

Everybody froze, Kes’s breath getting caught in his throat, a tight knot of anxiety immediately solidifying in his gut. His gaze flicked around the disastrously messy room, fixing for a half a terrified second on the photo on the wall-- Flight Academy Graduation, the carefree grin, the way that stormtrooper had _studied_ his boy-- 

He swallowed hard, ice in his veins and the still heat of the air making his hands clammy and his brow bead with sweat. 

Nobody would dare be out right now-- not anybody from the base. They were all underground, and they’d come up through the tunnels into the house if they had to…

The person on the other side of the garden door was a little short to be a stormtrooper. Not to mention, only a local could withstand the weather. 

There was a familiar silhouette there, sending his heart hammering in his ears and his anxious brain working overtime-- not a single person from town knew the Resistance was there. Nobody knew, and while Kes wasn’t going to be able to hide it too much longer, _now_ was not the time. The living space was a mess of ration boxes, transmission equipment and datapads. 

The person knocked on the glass again, making Kes very glad for his curtains. 

“ _Kes?_ ” 

The air rushed out of him as if a balloon had been released in his chest, his breath hissing out through his teeth, knowing _for sure_ who it was. He scrubbed a rough hand down his face and let his back relax the slightest bit. 

He had been so busy; he had hardly realized that he missed her voice. He was _relieved_ , even. He hadn’t been so relieved to hear that voice in nearly 30 years. Not since Shara was alive, clutching at Kes’s hand and trying to breathe her way through frighteningly close contractions. Back then, the woman on the other side of that door had had impeccable timing.

This time, her timing was less impeccable and more stressful. But, if there was anyone on Yavin that he could even _potentially_ trust with this, it was Qui’ana Tareen.

Qui’ana had been his friend since childhood. She had delivered his son; she had left dinner on their doorstep for _weeks_ after Shara passed. She checked in when Poe flew off to the Republic Starfleet, and she kept checking in. She was steadfast and kind, and Kes hadn’t even considered telling her _or_ the town when he left for the Resistance all those months ago. 

He supposed it wasn’t his finest hour. He _supposed_ it was only a matter of time before somebody found out he was back.

He should’ve known someone would come knocking on his door, but he’d been so busy… _Of course,_ someone would come by, and _of course_ Ana would be the one to volunteer. 

“Kes? Are you home?” she knocked again, and a tight knot of anxiety tied itself around Kes’s throat.

He supposed he didn’t _have_ to answer it. 

There was a long, exasperated sigh from the shadow in the doorway “Caden and Itza _both_ said you were back, so you might as well open up.” 

Kriff. 

_“Okay—“_ he breathed, barely making a sound in his frozen living room _“I’m going to answer the door and keep her in the garden for as long as I can. You are going to hide the equipment and yourselves—“_

 _“Dad, it’s just Ana—"_ Poe whispered back.

Kes just shushed his son _“Just do it, Poe.”_ he hissed over his shoulder. He shot Leia a meaningful look that she nodded to, leaving him able to take one deep, steadying breath before slipping out into the garden. 

The late afternoon sun made her skin glisten with sweat, and her smile was _just_ on this side of smug. Her eyebrow was raised as if to ask him what he had to say for himself, and every possibility of stalling for the others flew out of his head, nerves still strangling him, part of his brain not registering that there was no perceptible danger. There were no stormtroopers coming for his son. There was no First Order presence on his land. 

Not yet, anyway. And if he could trust anyone, he could trust Ana, but… 

He couldn’t take the chance. 

“Hey Ana…” he cleared his throat and did his best to act as if this was any other time that she’d popped by-- they were always sporadic, right? It wasn’t as if they saw each other too regularly before he’d left. Besides, Leia and the boys needed as much time as he could give them “So much for a mild dry season, huh?”

She huffed a humorless laugh, arms crossed. “Y’know, people were starting to say you were dead. After you disappeared all those months ago.” 

“I’m sorry, I--”

“And now, you show back up again, and the bazaar just so happens to be _crawling_ with stormtroopers? What a coincidence.” 

“What?”

“Haven’t the people of Yavin suffered enough? You bring the Sith right back into our homes? Our lives? All these years and you can’t just settle down, you _have_ to cause trouble?”

“What did you say about the stormtroopers?”

“Oh, _pft_ , they’re all over the place.” she swatted at the air with her fan, like they were womp rats in her cellar and not agents of a fascist regime “We can handle it, stormtroopers are all miserably stupid, anyway.” 

There was a moment of shocked silence where Kes found himself holding his tongue, just waiting for her to continue, trying to process the idea of _another_ full-scale occupation on his homeworld. She looked right back at him as if to ask _What do you have to say for yourself?_

The sun beat down, Shara swayed in the breeze-less air behind Ana’s head, and Kes’s mouth was definitely hanging open. His mind whirred with questions and apologies-- _What the Hell?_

“Why did you go? _Where_ did you go?” she took slow steps toward him, her eyes wide and nearly pleading, “You, this house-- you’re a kriffing _pillar_ of this community, Kes. Festivals have been held on Dameron land for generations, and all of a sudden, you were gone? Just before Adai, no _warning?_ I know we hadn’t talked in a while before you left, and you were getting worried about Poe, but--” 

His throat was suddenly dry at the mention of his son, remembering the terrible and constant weight of waiting for him to comm. Back when Jakku was last thing he’d heard and the worst-case scenarios were the only scenarios left. He coughed and swallowed, trying to get a word in, shifting from foot to foot as he was scolded in his own damn doorway “Qui’ana, I’m _sorry!_ I had to go--” 

She moved so fast, he barely registered it beyond a blur of hair and limbs, her face crumbling into something desperate and rare-- he flinched, expecting to get slapped. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time.

Her arms wrapped around his shoulders tightly, holding fast like he might disappear, and their damn near fifty years of knowing each other slammed into him like a freighter. 

He had left without a trace, leaving his oldest friend in the dark. Maybe, after Luke came and collected him, after Rey convinced him to join the cause and come see his son, Qui’ana had driven by just like this time. Maybe she parked her speeder by the cave pond just like it was parked then, and found the garden empty and the door latched. Maybe she came back the next week and the next, wondering where he’d gone to, and why he didn’t tell anyone. 

Part of him was _still_ catching up with the fact that there were no stormtroopers on his land; still reeling from their apparent presence in the town; one ear listening out for any of the quiet rustling on the other side of the door. 

All was quiet. 

“You did it for Poe, didn’t you?” she murmured in his ear, entirely unwilling to let him out of her embrace. 

He nodded. 

It was far too hot to be so close to someone, even a friend, and the relief that swept through him when she let him go was a small comfort compared to the idea of being back in the relative coolness of home.

“Any chance of a drink? It’s blistering out here.” She smiled, reading his mind as a bead of sweat rolled down her hairline. 

He had been lulled into the moment of the conversation, forgetting for a split second that he was stalling, trying to hide an entire military base under their feet-- a vice-like grip clenched around his chest, and every inch of him prickled with the sweat and building pressure. 

“Yeah, of course. It’s a long ride back into town.” he smiled, hoping it looked less forced than it felt. “Yeah, c’mon in.” 

They had better be done. 

He held his breath as he purposely fumbled with the knob, jiggling the door with as much of a warning as he could give before letting them both into the cool respite of the house. 

It looked like his own again-- or damn close to it, at least. Kes would never admit it, but he barely remembered what his house had looked like before the Resistance came to stay. He supposed it would’ve looked like this, though. Pictures on the walls, holoreels and old memories in a chest beside the sofa, the kitchen all tidy, caf-maker on. 

It was just as he’d left it-- as _they’d_ left it. Every single thing in the same places where he and Shara placed them when they took the house. He’d never had the heart to move the furniture again. 

“How’s the job? How many happy new babies do we have on our little moon?” He breathed out a sigh, falling into the rusty old routine of letting Ana close the door behind her while he puttered into the kitchen with shaky hands.

She chuckled at his sudden switch to normalcy, getting them both mugs as she indulged his banal question. “Job’s still good, always has been. No complications with a single birth in the past fortnight-- Itza’s pregnant, too. Seems like everybody’s trying to make up for the genocides with a thousand new Yavinites.” 

He flicked his gaze around the living space, while fresh caf percolated, chewing the inside of his lip as he listened to Ana go on and on. He couldn’t see a trace of Poe, Leia, or Finn in the space, and the grip around his chest loosened just a touch further. 

It was his turn to laugh and indulge her as they made up for lost time. She gushed about her daughter’s pregnant belly, the way she glowed, and how easy a time she and Caden were having. “It’s like you and Shara-- not a single problem since morning sickness evened out.” 

He asked about the foundling home. He asked about Adai, and the town elders, and all the things he’d missed while he was away. He dodged every question she asked him in return, feeling her gaze get sharper and sharper as he deflected himself back to her and her life. 

Ana was too smart to be fooled for long. Maybe she had never been fooled in the first place, if her next question was anything to go by. 

“Last we spoke, you were worried about Poe--”

“Ana--”

“No, no way Dameron. You’ve been skittish as a fathier since I got here. Talk to me-- how’s Poe? Is he okay? You were starting to fear the worst.” 

He huffed a humorless laugh, remembering the endless weeks of waiting for his son to comm him, unaware of what he was going through all the way across the galaxy for those 7 weeks after Jakku and Starkiller. 

“If Poe was gone, we both know I wouldn’t be standing here right now.” 

He could’ve sworn he heard a quiet intake of breath in the living room, but he didn’t look away from the naked concern in his friend’s eyes “That doesn’t make me worry any less-- but I’d definitely worry more if that BB unit wasn’t pretending to be a bush in your garden.” she sipped her caf and cocked a brow at him “I ushered that boy into the world, and I don’t even get to say hi?” 

Kes was a terrible liar. 

He must’ve been wearing his dread and anxiety all over his stupid face. This was why _Shara_ had been the spy, and why _Poe_ was the spy. 

Kes was a soldier, not meant to keep secrets. 

If she had been able to tell Poe was here, had she seen anything else? Did she know anything? Had the stormtroopers in town been asking questions-- Oh, kriff, his brain was so fried, he _forgot about the stormtroopers_ \--

“Kes? Kes, what’s _wrong_ —”

“Hey Ana-- Long time, no see.” Poe popped up from _behind the sofa_ , and Kes could barely stifle his sigh. For Star’s sake, he could only hope the others found a better place to hide. 

But Poe had wanted to eavesdrop. Kes could see so in his sharp gaze and his too-bright smile. It was the type of smile he used to change the subject, the one he knew could make people humor his lies and half-truths-- he used that smile a lot these days, with so much to hide after that Star Destroyer business. 

He wasn’t talking to Kes anymore. He was just falling asleep in meetings, working day and night on the A Wing, talking a big talk about taking out the base on Yavin III--

But none of that was important now. 

Ana shot him an _I told you so_ look over the rim of her mug before meeting Poe halfway from his hiding place. She hugged him close before pulling back, scanning him over like the evidence of his suffering could be seen in his stance alone (It couldn’t. Maybe to Kes, or to Finn, maybe even Leia or Rey, it did. But Poe was a spy-- he was a better liar than he liked him to be). 

Satisfied, Ana stepped away “Poe Dameron, you’re a sight for sore eyes!” 

“And you look just as lovely as always.” 

They played the small talk game for a minute-- the first minute where Kes felt like he could properly breathe since their guest had knocked. Thankfully, Qui’ana neglected to question _why_ a grown man would hide behind a _sofa_ , but he was sure Poe would rather answer that than the questions she _did_ ask. 

That she _always_ asked. It had become a running joke, of sorts. 

“All your friends are settling down, Poe, having babies-- when does the galaxy get another Dameron?” her eyes glimmered with a laugh, the three of them falling into an uneasy peace while the base went about its business underground. 

Poe chuckled “Once I’m done saving it, Ana.” 

They were effectively playing house-- Kes felt as if reality had split, leaving him holding together his house on the brink of breaking apart and revealing his secrets. He breathed, and smiled, and watched as his son navigated. 

“That didn’t stop your father! He went off to war and came back with a pregnant pilot!”

Kes rolled his eyes, then, giving a pointed _harrumph_ into his caf mug to hide the way the words sliced into him. 

It had been 30 years. 30 years since they were home, since they were a family for the first time-- he felt his heart squeeze again, able to picture it exactly. How Shara had come down from the loft with her face pinched and sweaty from the heat, color high in her cheeks-- Kes had thought that it was just the heat for one single, stupid second when his wife had turned the corner and opened her mouth to speak, leaning on the threshold between the living space and the stairs. 

In hindsight, it was a damn miracle she could get down the stairs at all--

The memory sent a flush of warmth up through him, filtering into his veins like a balm. His gut twisted with the familiar constant of _missing her._

Poe gave a full laugh “Yeah, no pregnant pilots here-- if I ever have kids, they’re coming out of your foundling home.” 

Kes was so lost in the memories, he didn’t realize that the chatter had abruptly slid off into silence or that the mood of the room had shifted. Not until he glanced up around the rim of his mug and thought he had finally gone completely nuts. 

There was a young woman on the threshold between the living space and the stairs. 

Kes nearly inhaled his caf, not even registering the shocked silence of Poe, Qui’ana and _Rose_ , who stood on the staircase with the most bewildered look Kes had ever seen. 

“Kes, the… Doctor Kal has a list of medical supplies she needs…” she stuttered, a datapad clutched in her hands. 

No one bothered to mention to Rose or Kal? That there was an uninformed local downstairs that had the power to overturn their whole operation? The false sense of security he had let himself slip into evaporated in a second, and he slammed his mug down on the counter with the force of his coughing fit. 

“I… I just came to... I’m so sorry.” Rose looked like she could dissolve into tears at any second, the circles under her eyes nearly as dark as Poe and Finn’s-- Kes couldn’t blame her for this. She had nothing to apologize for. 

Ana blinked rapidly from the two Damerons to the girl on the stairs and back again before realization started to dawn on her face. 

“That… That transport all that time ago-- oh my, _Kes_. It was gone before anyone could take a closer look, and then the stormtroopers came in.” she slammed her own mug back on the countertop, echoing in the space loud enough to make poor Rose jump. 

Kes was too frozen to do a thing, but Poe reached out and beckoned Rose forward. If he had the mental capacity at that moment, Kes would’ve been so proud of the way he reassuringly smiled at her, taking the datapad. 

“Guys--” he spoke up to the empty-looking living space “You can come out now. She knows.” 

_“Guys?_ How many people are--” Qui’ana started, eyes wide and jaw slack when Leia and Finn _also popped up from behind the kriffing sofa._ Kes honestly didn’t know what to do with these people, he had a whole house they could hide in-- “What d’you need medical supplies for? How many people are _here,_ Kes?” She snatched the datapad, and Kes felt his heart sink. 

He had hoped he could trust her to keep quiet. She looked absolutely flabbergasted, scanning over the datapad like it was a bounty hunter’s hit list, like he was secretly working for the Hutts or something-- 

She had the power to ruin everything: she could tell the town elders and get them booted offworld; she could collect on any or all of the bounties on Poe and his friends; she could--

“Qui’ana, is it?” Leia spoke up, her smile wise and her eyes glimmering with _Force User X Ray Vision_. “I think we met. A long time ago at Kes’s wedding.” 

“You’re Princess Leia.” she breathed, nodding and seeming to come back to herself just a bit as she flicked her gaze back over to Kes. “ _Senator Organa?_ You brought a whole base here? You just _have to_ cause trouble?” 

“We were supposed to be in a whole other system-- one that barely had any lifeforms, but we were stranded--” Finn stepped in, trying to explain. 

“This is one of the last footholds of the Resistance--” Poe cut in. 

“Please don’t expose this, Ana.” Kes blurted out, his anxiety guiding him, instinctively reaching out to grip her shoulder.

“ _Expose_ you? Kes…” she let out a long breath, searching his gaze like she thought he was joking. She leaned into his touch and waved the datapad at him. “With all these people relying on you? How long have we known each other? I would never do that... I can _help_ you.” 

“What?” 

“I might be the only one who can.” she looked down at the long list of bacta and syringes and wrappings, shaking her head like she just couldn’t believe it. 

Kes felt like _he_ was the one who couldn’t believe it. She asked about how many people they had on site, and whether they needed rations-- they made a new list. They made a list and a plan. Qui’ana would inform the town elders of the Resistance presence on Yavin. She would spin it as protection from the First Order, and they would start putting anti-occupation efforts into effect in the bazaar-- only the lowest levels, to avoid the most violence. 

Inun’daa would still go on as scheduled. Any and all Yavinites who wanted to help with the Resistance effort could do so openly-- in a mass like a festival, those Stormtroopers won’t know a thing. 

“What’s Inun’daa?” Finn whispered to Poe. 

“I’ll tell you later.” Poe whispered back. 

Kes felt the weight of the galaxy get a little lighter on his shoulders at the idea of having his community-- in having _Qui’ana--_ on board. 

“You don’t have to do this.” he finally said, walking his friend back toward the door while the others set the command center back up and pretended they weren’t listening. “It’s dangerous.” 

She grinned back up at him. This time it was her turn to put a steadying hand on his shoulder, “I’m the only one who can do it, Kes. I can order your rations and your medical supplies in bulk in a way no one else on this moon probably can-- I’ll just say it’s for my job and for the foundlings if I get stopped.” she shrugged as if it wasn’t a big deal, but Kes hated the idea--

“Kes Dameron. Stop thinking so much.” she all but ordered him, “I couldn’t fight with you in the last war… Let me do this for you now.” 

With that she let her hand slide off his shoulder, her smile turning a little sad as he watched her study him. It was as if she could she something he didn't. It sent a prickle up his spine that he shook off by opening the door for her. 

“Thank you.” 

“Don’t mention it. It’s just good to have you home.” 

And she left. She left like it was any other day in any other part of town, like there wasn’t a war brewing in space above her head or in the ground underneath her feet. 

Kes exhaled a long, hopeless sigh at the relief of having it all over. The sun still beat down on the garden, and Shara still swayed in the non-existent breeze, and their crisis was averted. 

He turned around from the door to see four keen sets of eyes on him. Even Poe-- Poe who was terrified of his Force sensitivity, didn’t understand or want to understand the power at his disposal, _even Poe--_ seemed to have an expectant gaze on him, scanning with _Force User X Ray Vision_ that Kes hated. 

“What?” 

His son’s growing smile was enough to concern him, but then Finn elbowed him in the side before he could get whatever he was scheming on out of his mouth--

Leia was the one who spoke up “Well, we got the supply situation handled, I guess.” 

He was startled into a chuckle, finally coming back to sit by his friend and shake off the oddities of the day. “Yeah, I guess we did.” 

And maybe Leia looked at him a touch longer than he liked, studying him like he was keeping a secret, and maybe Poe couldn’t stop glancing over at him. He didn’t notice, particularly. He was too busy casting his own gaze over the threshold of the stairs every once in a while, remembering all the times Shara had rounded that corner. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to my lovelies who have been commenting <3 you folks are so great! 
> 
> This chapter practically wrote itself, I'm so happy with it. We're entering a rough patch for our lovely trio, and things are gonna suck that way for a few chapters haha so bear with me. They're gonna work it out-- and sometimes you really need to get this stuff off your chest in order to heal. This chapter is for Finn and Rey. If you're looking to really get into Finn's mindset for this chapter and his current dynamic with Rey (because he... says some things, he takes it pretty far. He's not wrong, but WHOA he could've been nicer about it), go listen to the song that I had on REPEAT while I was writing: Sonya Alone from Natasha, Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812. It's depressing, and it makes me ache, and it's perfect for them. 
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3HzGp1I2Qqg
> 
> UGH this chapter felt really good. There's a point in here that literally made me tear up, I am so emotional about Finn and his mama. I hope you love it-- and please, as always, tell me if you do. 
> 
> Stay healthy <3

_He was always so small. He was too small to run, too small to fight back, but he_ knew _something was wrong that day. His whole body vibrated with the tingles, the pins and needles of apprehension from the minute he woke up. The Force was trying to tell him what was going to happen, what that day would bring, but Finn was too small to understand that._

_His mother spent the day trying to contain his squirming, going about her day in their tiny neighborhood on the edge of their dry, brush covered city._

_Where were they? Finn tried to hold on to the images from his childhood’s eyes, imprinting them into his grown up mind._

_All around them, sticking out across the horizon in all directions, were those strange, tree-like shapes, imposing and dark in the distance, silhouetted by the bright light of midday. The sun was high in the blue sky and their little community—village? Settlement?— of dome-shaped huts and dusty courtyards sat under its rays. It wasn’t too hot, like Yavin or Jakku, and it wasn’t verdant and forested like Takodana or Endor. The city in the distance was built up of dried mud into tall, wide cylinders with black roofs that fanned out over the buildings. Colorful patchworks of cloth and netting that provided cover in the open courtyards could be seen as specks of vibrancy in the distance._

_When the little boy looked out toward the city, the vibrations inside him intensified, and Finn whined and whimpered, unable to listen or understand what the Force was calling him to do. Was he supposed to walk toward the city? Was he supposed to investigate? Was he supposed to run?_

_His mother frowned at him, her voice a shapeless, chiding noise as he fought with the tugging sensations in his gut that he didn’t have the words to explain. Her eyes were dark and warm, and her face was like looking in a mirror._

_Finn couldn’t hear her as her lips moved, scolding her son for fidgeting, trying to decode his fussing, and the man inside his brain tried to take in every inch of her-- as if he could understand the essence of everything about her, and about_ him _, just by studying her face for the answers._

 _She was_ soft _. He was held up close to her while she tried to keep him contained, and he was close enough to see her short, curly lashes and the one, solitary wrinkle that stayed in her forehead even after she’d unfurrowed her brow. Her skin was as dark as his, smooth and brown, and Finn’s breath caught in his throat when his own small, pudgy hands could reach out to her cheeks and_ feel _._

_He had thought that touching her in the dream would be like hearing her voice-- garbled and distant, only the gist of the moment-- but when he touched her face, he felt the warmth of her skin and softness of the flesh there. Finn’s hands were that of a little kid, but he, as he was inside his brain, could feel her as if they were his own scarred palms._

_His hands were scarred with the deep, dusky red gouges of the First Order. The little hands on his mother’s face weren’t tainted yet-- he wouldn’t raise his hand and feel the Force flowing through him for so many years. He wouldn’t reverse Phasma’s blast, or have her rip the Lace out of his spine, or drive her own chains into her throat for so long. The little boy who cradled his mother’s face in his hands was so innocent._

_So innocent, and so doomed._

_A swell of rippling Force energy shook through his tiny body until he was so full of the unsettling vibration that he couldn’t take it anymore-- he writhed and squirmed in the arms that had picked him up, trying to break free even though there was nothing that Finn wanted more than to stay in that moment._

_She was going to die today._

_He could hear a child starting to cry, hot tears in his gaze blurring her expression as it crumpled into concern. She cooed and sang to him, trying to calm his sudden outburst while he broke into wailing sobs, holding his belly where the tug was all but dragging him inside, tearing him apart-- he knew what was going to happen, but he didn’t know what to say._

_The little boy broke free of his mother’s hold, ignoring the soothing patter of her voice, drowning her out with the confusion and terror of the phrases blaring out in his mind: She is going to die. They are all going to die. Smoke, smoke--_

_He didn’t know why his body was doing this, why it was saying these things, why his limbs tingled and his chest pulsed with foreign energy. Finn was so small, so helpless-- and he ran like he could_ escape _. He ran away from their little home and toward the specks of color in the distant city, toward the dark, towering trees behind that city, willing to run and run until there was nowhere else to go. Finn tried to run away from something that was inside of himself._

_He supposed that he was going to die today, too. In a way._

“--inn, Finn!” 

He startled awake with the image of warm eyes and strange trees imprinted into his vision, the dim light of the tunnel barracks nearly completely dark while the sun still beat down on him in his rapidly fading memories. 

The first thing to draw him back into reality was a soft pressure in his chest, right at the center of him, where he’d felt such a strong, desperate pull before. It helped him breathe to know it was there, to feel that presence gripping onto him like he might float away. 

Finn honestly wasn’t sure if he wouldn’t. Everything felt like sand in an hourglass, fragmenting and slipping away-- he forced himself up to sitting, his arms trembling and giving way under him. 

The second thing he noticed as his eyes adjusted to the tunnels was that there were eyes on him. 

_Everyone_ was awake. They were watching him with haggard faces, their eyes hooded and framed with dark circles-- annoyance, concern, confusion, _pity--_ he didn’t know which expression he hated the most. Every single one of them was watching him, sitting up in their cots, and he wished he could scream at them. Rose was by the door, the closest to standing up and coming over, frozen at the edge of her bed like Finn was a skittish animal. 

Everyone was watching, except the empty bed at the end of the row. Rey’s. It had been empty nearly every night since they landed, since the galaxy tilted off its axis with the explosion of that Star Destroyer-- 

He had an idea. Steely determination settled in his gut, the only thing holding him together as his dream slipped away. 

Heat bloomed in his cheeks as he scrubbed away his tears. He had been crying in his sleep again. 

Had he screamed? Had he called out? How did he wake them all--

“You were muttering to yourself. Muttering, and then you just started to...” Poe’s voice was quiet, but it was easy to hear in the silence of the room, his hand coming to rest in its usual place on the back of Finn’s neck. He knocked at their bond, but Finn didn’t open the connection. His hands were trembling too hard to even _think_ properly, his heart hammering in his chest, his embarrassment twisting up inside him until he was curling over around himself. “You were crying. Like, like _wailing_. Finn--”

“I need some air.” he finally found his voice, a strangled rasp that didn’t even sound like him. 

“ _Finn--_ ”

“ _Don’t_ follow me.” 

It came out pretty rough, harsher than Finn had meant it to, and he could feel the way Poe clicked his mouth shut more than he could hear it. His worry and _hurt_ flooded the bond for a split second, before Poe clicked that shut, too. 

Finn felt like an ass-- like the absolute lowest dirt, with Poe’s wide-eyed, lost gaze burning into his back. He barely took the time to throw a shirt over his head before he bolted for the stairs and into the night. He could apologize later, he could… 

There was something he had to do. 

* * *

Ever since they landed on Yavin, Rey had been distant. 

It started with just Luke and Leia-- Rey would sleep in the barracks with them, she still ate with them, and they could find her around the land most of the time. It was only when he and Poe would head off to train their bond with Luke and Leia that Rey would mysteriously disappear. 

The first time Finn mentioned it, Luke pursed his lips and sighed. He had a glimmer in his eye that looked like understanding, and Finn could reach out into the Force and feel the conflict and concern within him. 

It had to do with the Star Destroyer, Kylo Ren, and Rey. He could _feel_ it in him. What else could it be? There was danger in his visions, like he was preparing for something worse than any of them could imagine. 

_“You know there’s something they’re not telling us.” Poe had griped in the early days of their recovery._

_“Yeah. You feel that, too?”_

_“I_ feel _like I’m a person with a pair of eyes that can see what a bad liar Rey is— and Luke Skywalker can’t be trusted for anything.” He replied, pointed._

_“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”_

_“I’m not like you two. It’s not…” he scrubbed his uninjured hand down his face and Finn watched the weight of the galaxy settle on his shoulders. He deflated lower than Finn had ever seen, looking smaller than he’d been since he was unconscious on D’Qar “I’ll train the bond, Finn. But I’m no Jedi…”_

_And Finn kept his mouth shut about it. Poe was a pilot, after all, it wasn’t imperative to the war effort that he exercise his powers— he already did. In his own way._

_It was different for Finn and Rey. There was the constant, hovering necessity of their Force training looming over his head. He didn’t know what it was, yet, but he knew they both needed to be on board in order to win this war._

Finn understood. He especially understood not trusting Luke. But Leia had been brushing off her behavior, too— even as Rey’s disappearing act started including the makeshift mess hall in the barn, and the barracks beneath them. 

Poe went a little pale and drawn when Finn tried to talk about it, his jaw set and his healed hand flexing. He acted like it was just _frustrating_ that Rey was distancing herself, like this wasn’t terrifying-- like they couldn’t both _feel_ the Dark side energy starting to gather in the shadows between the trees. Gathering inside their friend. There was such conflict and doubt inside her. 

Leia said Rey was going to be alright-- and she said it with such kriffing certainty. She took his hand and told him that Luke was keeping an eye on her. Luke said she was by the Great Temple. That she was always at the Great Temple. 

But that was almost more worrying. 

Yavinites didn’t like going anywhere near the temple. Poe called it _spooky_ , but Finn knew it was just because he’d been feeling the energy in the air around the massive stone structure since he was little. Since long before he _knew_ he was feeling the Force _._ Finn knew he could feel it, because it was an overwhelming wave for him too-- there had been mass death there once. There had been scheming and cruelty and manipulation. 

Beyond the Rebellion, and beyond the Galactic War battles fought on the little moon, there was some type of history in there. Something to do with the genocides and the Sith-- Finn could feel the energy getting darker and darker, the air going sour with fear and doubt the deeper he went. 

What sent a chill through his veins was that he didn’t know how much of that energy was the Temple, and how much of it was his friend. 

She was meditating. Whenever Finn came by, it seemed like she was lost in listening for _something_. Some voice that would tell her what the right path was-- as if she hadn’t known the right path all along. All on her own. 

Without her guiding his way, he may never have come to the Resistance. He might have disappeared into the Outer Rim-- never reconnected with Poe, never found his purpose fighting the First Order, never gotten the chance to train the power inside him and use it to do the _right thing._

She had been his weathervane when he lost his direction. And it was his turn to show her which way the wind was blowing. 

He steadied himself, rooting his feet in the earth at the edge of the temple grounds. Swallowing down his indignance, anger, and doubt-- he tried to find the words to act like he and Rey were as normal as ever. 

Even if it hurt to be abandoned. To be so _forgotten_. 

“Hey, um-- Hey Rey.” the words stumbled over his tongue and into the thick, venomous air. 

She was up on the megalithic steps, and he could practically _see_ the way the Force flowed through her like a current through the luminous night, lit by moons through every corner of the trees. 

She opened her eyes, and he saw them red-rimmed and tired, but still there usual, sparkling brown. If she was teetering on the precipice of the Dark Side, surely she’d look different. Surely, by then, Luke would be concerned, too-- Finn wouldn’t be the only one who cared if Rey were truly about to fall apart. 

But that just meant that she was running away, then. He had to shake himself out of a fresh wave of anger. 

“Finn!” she grinned, and it strangled him with how much he missed her for the moment it lasted before slipping off her face. She could feel his hectic energy, and he was probably still wearing his dream all over his face. “What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” 

“I have.” he admitted, feeling the memory of his mother’s face under his small hands. “I need your help.” 

She just watched him, waiting for him to name it, looking down from her place on the temple steps. Her eyes shuttered themselves, a shadow seeming to come across the entire clearing when he finally got to spit out the plan that he’d been dwelling on for the past week. 

“I need you to help me remember my homeworld.” he blurted out, his brain going a million parsecs a minute, trying to say everything he needed to say before she had the time to reject him. He had hope, still. “Go into my mind and help me piece together these visions-- I can’t do it through my dreams, they’re too… fast, I’m looking from the wrong angle-- but if I could see it with my own eyes, I know I could--”

She was shaking her head, naked fear on her face and permeating the Force. Finn cut himself off, his heart in his throat. 

“Finn…” she rasped, more breath than word “Finn, I _can’t…_ ” 

The rejection stung like a slap. He may have expected it, but he _needed_ her-- he needed his friend, and had needed her for so long. She wouldn’t tell him what happened to her, she wouldn’t train for the cause, she wouldn’t even show up to meetings. 

He supposed that, of course, it would be too much to ask for her to do this. He had just hoped that, because it was for _him_ , maybe things would be different. Maybe Rey hadn’t left him behind completely. 

“Poe’s strong in the Force-- why aren’t you asking him?” 

Finn pursed his lips, a hiss of breath huffing out his nose as he crossed his arms defensively “Poe just... “ it wasn’t that Poe was weaker, he had witnessed that firsthand on that Star Destroyer-- he continued to witness it in training every day-- but, Poe… “He’s not as trained as you. He doesn’t believe in his ability, he shies away from it and..” 

“And you know that he’d try to stop you if he knew a damn thing about this.” Rey finished his sentence, literally looking down on him from her place on the jutted out rocks of the ancient temple for a long second. A rush of annoyance prickled up Finn’s spine, and he tried to parse out the words to make her _understand_. 

“Yeah, because he’s scared! He thinks the Force is dangerous--” 

“What if he should be? What if it _is_ , Finn--?” 

He bit down on his cheek and fought the pull of his anger, trying to breathe and trying to _listen_ to Rey-- _but why should I listen to Rey when she won’t listen to me?_ He thought mutinously, scrubbing a hand over his hair and cursing the kriffing heat of the Yavin jungle-- “What the Hell happened, Rey!? Am I the only one out of the three of us who’s willing to acknowledge that what we have is a gift? You never used to be like this-- not when somebody needed help--”

“A _gift?”_ she hissed, her eyes wild and teary, stomping down off the rock and into his face “You have no idea what I’ve done, Finn-- If you let me into your head, I’ll only hurt you--”

“You’re right! I don’t! I don’t _know--_ why don’t you enlighten me, Rey?” they were yelling at each other, barely a foot from each other’s faces, and the adrenaline was coursing through Finn’s blood so hot and strong that he couldn’t turn back from the fight “What the Hell is it that you did that’s so bad? Cus, Luke Skywalker still thinks he can train you, and we all know he’d have run away again if he didn’t think you were worth it--” 

“Don’t talk about him like that. It was more complicated than that--”

“Don’t _talk_ about him like that? You won’t even _look_ at the man!” he stumbled back a step with the force of his own incredulity, “You won’t _train_ , you won’t _help_ , you won’t _try--_ You’re turning into him, and I _know_ how much you used to _hate_ him. How many times did I take your transmissions about how Luke Skywalker couldn’t be trusted, and that he abandoned his family!”

“Finn--”

“We’ve tried to help!” he continued, all the betrayal and worry floating out, a dam broken in his chest-- he just needed her to know. He needed her to know that they wanted her back. They needed her, they loved her. “I know Poe understands! Probably better than I do--” 

“Poe thinks I’m being selfish!” Rey cried, her face wet with tears, scrambling to her feet. 

“Oh, Poe _knows_ you're being selfish! And, this whole time, I've been the one defending you!" he scoffed, venom burning him up from the inside out "Oh _no--_ It’s so _good_ of you to disappear when we’re in critical planning stages to save the galaxy! You’re doing us a real service--”

“Oh, _fuck_ you! You have no idea what I’m protecting you from--”

“Leia has been worried sick about you, too, and you _know_ Kes has been sitting in his garden, just waiting for the opportunity to give you one of those Dad heart-to-hearts! _Luke_ is _\--_ ” 

“ENOUGH, FINN!” she finally shouted, her pent up power sending a tremor through the ground and a breeze through the trees. 

They just stared for a moment, waiting for the other to make a move, like this was a lightsaber battle instead of an innocent request of a friend gone terribly wrong. Finn’s chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath from the anger that had stolen it. Rey seemed to be deflating, her lip wobbling as she took him in from top to bottom-- he saw concern in _her_ gaze, too, just like everybody else. 

It sent a fresh ripple of injustice through him to see her--one of the only people with the power to help him put this to bed--refuse out of fear and then show him such naked concern. 

As if she was _powerless--_ he just told her how she could help, and she refused.

In the beat of silence between them, Finn could feel Poe knocking on the door of their bond. He must have been inundated by the waves of complex, overwhelming emotion that Finn was sending out. No matter how much they trained, Poe always knew things like this. He could sense Finn in trouble. 

He didn’t open the door. Poe couldn’t know-- if Rey would just _help him_ , Poe wouldn’t need to know a thing. 

“Finn, I understand the urge to find the family you lost, but… But you don’t _have_ to find your mother. You and me, we have that in common. We’ve made our own family-- your destiny isn’t bound by your blood, you’re your own person--”

“Don’t you dare lecture me about family! If you really made your own family, you’d be helping us! I don’t need you to patronize me.” She looked as if she’d swallowed her whole tongue, like Finn had punched her in the gut “I need to find her so I can say goodbye. So I can know who I was before they took me-- just because I want to know my name doesn’t mean I’m not still gonna be _Finn_.” 

He took a deep breath and steadied his wild heartbeat, bracing himself for one more attempt. This was for him, for his mother-- it was for Poe, too, so they could both _sleep_ again. “Rey, _please_. Will you help me?” 

She wanted to. He was _so close_. The question hung in the still, humid air, but he knew his answer before she shook her head. 

“Finn, I-- I _can’t_.” her voice was choked. “I can’t risk hurting you…” 

“Is that what it is? Or d’you just think that if I find my home, I won’t come back?” he spat "I'm not like you, Rey-- I wasn't abandoned by people that didn't care about me. I was _stolen_ and my mother was _murdered--"_ if he was less caught up in the swell of his anger, he'd have seen the way she flinched at his harsh words, but Finn just kept talking "-- I just want to know where she's buried. I can't abandon anybody! Even if I had a home to go to, Rey, I'd come back because I have people to protect, and a galaxy to save, and it's just the _right thing to do!"_

He felt a solid pit of disappointment sink in his gut like a stone, tangled in a miserable guilt that strangled him as he came back to himself.

Rey wasn't standing anymore, cut down by his words, her shoulders shaking and the air around her tortured by guilt and conflict and profound sadness. He bit his tongue-- he'd done his damage. He had only wanted to show her just how much she was _scaring_ him, and scaring _everybody._

 _I might've gone a step too far,_ he swallowed, stumbling backa step from the evidence of what he'd done. 

He had been ready to march her back onto the farm, ready to drag her right up to Luke and tell her to figure herself out, for herself and for everyone else. Part of him still was, he supposed. Sure, he wanted her to help him, but more than anything, her absence in their training and their strategizing begged the question: if Rey refused to use The Force-- if even _Poe_ was willing to use more Force energy than she was-- then how were they supposed to win this war? Without their strongest fighter? 

Finn had other options to help him find his mother. He was just hoping… He was hoping he could be enough to bring Rey out of whatever she was in, but he may have hurt more than he helped. 

He turned around and left her there, tears rolling down her face, telling himself over and over that he couldn’t help his friend if she wouldn’t help herself. All he could do was watch and wait. Even if he lost her forever as the friend she'd been, he wouldn't let her slip into the shadows and leave this cause to die.

He would wait for her to come back.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops I forgot put in a note! 
> 
> Hi— this is from Rey’s POV and she’s having a really hard time. If you have any triggers for sexual assault, this may trigger you. It’s similar to what Poe went through in Love Will Help You Heal. 
> 
> We’re so close to finishing up the ANGSTTTT TRAIN and then, you get the fluffiest fluff. So, hang in there ❤️ 
> 
> Please let me know what you think! You’re all the absolute best! Stay safe!

She spent her days spread between the Falcon and the Great Temple, out on the cracked old duracrete of the Rebellion base. The Rebellion base from the first war felt like a cursed place-- maybe not _cursed,_ but its energy was overwhelming, filling her head with the things that must’ve been felt at one point in these wide corridors and the cavernous hangar. 

Hope and despair, love and fear, and so, _so much_ determination. 

Rey could swear she felt every place where Leia stood, young and vibrant. And the Force tugged under Rey’s sternum every time she passed the spot in the old hangar where Luke’s X Wing must’ve been. She could practically hear R2 whistling, feeling the waves of her young master-- so sure about _the right thing to do._

There was _certainty_ here, a great swell of it rising up from the transmissions equipment in the dusty old command center when she touched it. There was an aura of doing what _must be done._ It didn’t come without the other feelings, though-- for every drop of certainty and determination, there was the doubt of whether things would ever truly change. 

The sweeping sensation of _hope_ drowned out everything else, though. And part of Rey wished she could scream out into the faces of those past people, tell them that they had been _right_ to fear. That they were just going to have to fight this fight all over again. They’d lose their friends and they’d lose themselves-- they would abandon people. 

Why did she ever join the Resistance? Was it really just to get BB-8 back to his master? A there and back again journey to Jakku to wait for a family who wasn’t coming back? Or was there some other motive? Was it that naïve little dream in the back of her mind, that she never let herself dream— to go be _more_ than she was? 

Now, it just seemed arrogant. Shame clutched at her heels and seemed to drag her back every time she tried to go back to the farm, her master and her friends. Maybe she had been destined for the Dark side from the start— too arrogant, too desperate for _a place_ to keep her head clear. 

She should’ve never been trained-- least of all as a Grey. It was so dangerous. She had pushed Kylo over the edge, she had _felt_ the good in him and she squashed it like a bug. And now there were some around the base who claimed he was dead. Kylo Ren died in the blast that Luke set, that he’d righted Rey’s wrongs, but she could feel in the severed stump of Force connection that Snoke had fused between them that Kylo Ren was very much alive. 

It was Ben Solo that she had killed. 

She didn’t even know what thoughts were her own. Was Snoke out of her head yet? Was she in control? Had she ever been? 

Even with the bastard dead, she still felt an iron grip around the core of her. Her energy was stifled, the Force inside her tarnished and broken. 

Even after all those weeks of meditating, her gaze turned constantly inward into the mess she’d created— Rey still couldn’t pinpoint the moment when Snoke took the reins in her mind. He had slipped in so seamlessly, made those thoughts, feelings and actions feel so organic--

 _Because they were._ A voice in her head hissed, making her lip wobble, _He only molded what was already there-- you wanted it._ She ached to return to _Finn_ and _Poe_ and anything that made her feel anchored. They reminded her of who she was. And she had abandoned them. 

_I can't abandon anybody! Even if I had a home to go to, Rey, I'd come back because I have people to protect, and a galaxy to save, and it's just the_ _right thing to do!_

Her lip wobbled, not for the first time since Finn had cut her down and left her on the steps of the temple. 

_Not for the first time since coming back from that Star Destroyer…_ she thought, scrubbing at her damp face irritably. As if she had a right to cry when it was all her fault-- when Finn was so right. 

It broke her heart to turn him away-- her oldest friend, her kindred spirit. 

_Don’t you dare lecture me about family! If you really made your own family, you’d be helping us!_

_I'm not like you, Rey-- I wasn't abandoned by people that didn't care about me. I was_ _stolen and my mother was murdered--_

It tore something apart in her to watch him go. To know that she was the one abandoning him now-- when she still cared. She cared _so_ _much_. She still felt that pain-- like she was wounded. His words were like salt in the damage Snoke had done.

He had re-made her into something new. Like Ren. She had been contorted by him, manipulated to fit the shape of a Sith.

She went into Ren’s head, and she twisted up the good that was left in him, she used his _mother_ and his _life_ and what was left of the things he had once cared about--

Unlike all her life previously, she knew who she was now. Master Luke had said that becoming a Grey Jedi would teach her who she was-- would _demand_ that she understand herself. He was right, and now she knew. She knew what she was capable of, and she _could do more harm than good._ She didn’t deserve to train with Luke, she shouldn’t become a Jedi, and she would _hurt_ Finn if she used the Force to go into his head. 

What if letting her in meant letting in the Dark side as well? What if Snoke was still there, haunting her mind and twisting her thoughts?

Maybe he had tainted everything. Maybe she was nothing. 

The days that she could summon the energy to do anything but meditate, Rey would go out on the tarmac and wander through the Falcon's short hallways and smuggler's panels. She fixed the hyperdrive, took it apart, and then fixed it again. Those thermocuplars were still loose, rattling no matter what she did. But the holochess table didn’t flicker and glitch on E5 anymore. 

If she was particularly daring, she’d wander into the cockpit and try to feel Han. Tried to feel the memory of the old smuggler in the control panel and the pilot’s seat. She missed him more acutely now, all alone in the ghostly space of the Rebellion’s first victory. It wasn’t because he’d understand, not really-- it was because, out of everyone, he wouldn’t ask. He’d just offer her a job and forget the galaxy’s mess. 

He'd let her run from her problems. Run from the Force itself. 

She was back at the thermocuplars that morning, Finn’s words echoing in her brain and making her hands shake. She gripped the wrench tighter as she felt a new presence in the space-- the gruff, reluctant energy making her wonder if she’d finally summoned Han-- 

That was before she heard the footsteps on the gangway. 

“The system’s too old.” Poe had his arms crossed, his gaze shuttered and purposefully dull where he watched her from the entrance. The Force swirled around him, his anger bubbling under the surface despite his carefully guarded expression. She could almost imagine that she saw him steaming in the jungle heat. 

“What?” 

“The system’s too old-- this ship is older than the kriffing galaxy itself, they don’t make the right parts anymore. You’d have to make a new set of thermocuplars from scratch to keep the caps from slipping. Tighten ‘em all you want, it won’t fix the problem.” 

He was clearly not happy to be there. 

_Oh, Poe_ knows _you're being selfish! And, this whole time, I've been the one defending you!_

She swallowed, lifting her chin and meeting her friend’s eyes, waiting for him to blink first. His jaw was set and _feeling_ radiated off of him in waves, filling the cabin. Fear, concern, anger, exhaustion— she'd felt this all from him before. Many times, but particularly far back there was a memory that sent a pang through her chest. 

Last time they had been in this cabin, Rey had just made the biggest mistake of her life. Poe was nursing a shattered hand and clutching to Finn like he would disappear if he let go. They had all failed-- no one could look the others in the eye, not until the General gripped their faces one by one and forced them to watch her as she lied. She told them it would be okay. 

But there was a time before. It lingered at the back of her mind, the last time Poe had looked so tired and the thermocuplars were broken-- she was pretty sure she’d had the same wrench in her hands. It was back on D’Qar, when Kes first joined the cause. Poe wasn't sleeping, he'd gone thin and pale, even his dashing grin had started to look forced. It was back when Starkiller was first defeated, and she still felt whole. 

What she wouldn’t give to go back. 

“You’re clearly not here to talk about the thermocuplars-- what did you walk all the way out here for?” she broke the silence, a bite in her tone that she knew would poke the angry woolamander in her friend. 

Might as well let _both_ of her friends get this off their chests. She might as well take what they give her-- they wouldn’t understand if she tried to explain. Not even Finn had understood. Luke just watched her from the shadows, and Leia… she couldn’t look Leia in the eye, knowing what she’d done to her son. 

Poe was the one she expected to explode. 

“I’m here for answers.” he said “Finn came here last night-- he mentioned that he kinda snapped at you.”

“Then, why’re you _here_ and not there?”

“Because that’s _all_ he mentioned. He’s all agitated, the bond is a mess, but he won’t let me in, and I know he’s planning something.” 

“How?” she poked again “The Force?”

“The _Bond_.” he growled, rolling his eyes as if the distinction he’d made between the two was anything but arbitrary “He’s shut down his end of the bond, I’m practically guessing what’s going on-- but I know it’s not good. I can feel it.”

“And you think I know?” she shot back. 

“I know you know--”

“How? Because _we_ don’t have a _Bond_ \--” 

“It’s the _Force, fine._ ” he uncrossed his arms, flailing a little as he dropped them to his hips. “Don’t sit there acting like you’re not terrified of the Force, too, Rey.” 

The silence hung for a long moment. Rey was still up to her shoulders in the floor panel, looking up at her friend while he fumed on the far side of the room.

“You don’t know what I did, Poe.” she finally whispered. 

“Does Finn?” he fired back, chewing the inside of his cheek. 

She only shook her head, heaving herself up onto the side of the panel and sitting on the edge. Her stomach had tied itself into tight knots, remembering the injured look on Finn’s face when she had refused him. 

“Then, why’s he so mad? What did you do--” 

“He wanted me to use the Force to go into his mind.”

The change in the air was palpable-- Poe looked like he might be sick at any second, panic saturating the cabin, and he tucked his hands in his pockets. She knew they were shaking.

“I… I couldn’t do it, not after… Snoke was in my head, Poe. He manipulated me on that Star Destroyer-- you know that much, you both do. _Everybody_ knows.” her voice was choked and her throat was dry, heat prickling behind her eyes just from saying that much. 

Poe seemed to deflate just the slightest bit. He swallowed like there was something sour lodged in his throat and looked her up and down, something in the air between them that made the distance seem shorter. She didn’t feel so alone for a second-- not like she had every second since her fight with Finn and the hole he’d carved out in her heart. 

"It’s not like you’re the only person who’s ever failed before."

She thought Poe would be the one to explode. But he didn’t. 

“Look, I... “ he cleared his throat “Finn thinks the world of you-- you hold up the whole galaxy. He’s under a lot of stress right now, and he’s not-not thinking straight. He’s all snappy, and-and tired and confused. And if he’s gonna act more like me right now, I guess I’ve gotta be like him. Because I don’t think he understands?” it was spoken like a question, and it was _so_ awkward. It was painful to watch, but she couldn’t help the surge of warmth that flooded through her for her friend as he shifted his feet in the doorway. “But I do. When Ren-- when he _went inside_ my head on Jakku… he manipulated every part of me. He took me apart and used the Force to take what I didn’t want to give. I _failed_ my mission.” 

His voice broke a little on the last words, but she didn’t say a thing-- she didn’t even breathe while Poe spoke. 

“The point is that if you’ve been violated by the Force, and that makes you scared, and that’s… that’s okay. I’m here to… to talk. If you need someone.” 

Her eyes were glittering, she knew by the way her vision of him swam, too choked to speak. 

She just nodded, standing up and crossing the room in just a few quick steps before throwing her arms around him. He was slow to hold her back, and the animosity was still there between them, but Rey was too busy touching another person for the first time in nearly two weeks. She buried her nose in the crook of his neck and could smell the engine grease and temple incense. He heartbeat was steady, and she felt _real_ again for a moment. Finally, he squeezed her back before pulling away. 

“Okay… good talk.” he chuckled, a little watery. 

“I like this side of you.” she tried to tease. 

He scoffed, but it wasn’t unkind when he said “I’d like you a lot better if you came home. We need you if we’re gonna win this war.” and before she could find the words to reply, he was off “I gotta go. Gotta stop my--”

“Husband?” 

He cocked a brow at her “ _Finn_ from doing something... rash. Kriff, I don't sound like myself at all--"

"The next time you do something _rash_ , I'll be sure to remind you of this." 

They both huffed tired little laughs, as much as they could manage. "Shut your mouth-- this never happened."

Rey was about to be alone with the ghosts again, when Poe turned around one more time from all the way down the gangway, calling up to her from the tarmac. “If you want to talk, you’ll have to come to the kriffing farm-- this Temple gives me the creeps. It’s bad for your health!”

She grinned, tears still in her eyes. There was a pit in her gut that told her that she'd disappoint him-- she'd disappoint everyone. But she knew that she wouldn't go. She wouldn't talk. There was one thing that Poe couldn't know, and it was the key difference between him and Ren, and her and Snoke. 

Snoke hadn't taken what he wanted by force. He had known what she wanted, and played into it. Every part of her had wanted to hurt Ren-- she had wanted revenge for all he'd done, she wanted to humiliate and ruin him. She had been weak. 

How could she look any of them in the eyes and say that? 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO! Long time, no update, I'm so sorry! 
> 
> I really wanted to get this posted on Monday, but my depression was really terrible all through last week. The good news, though, is that the past couple days have been sooooooo much better. My head is so clear, and my anxiety has been better, and I'm not as depressed anymore! I just hope I'm not jinxing myself. 
> 
> Things are good for now, and we're appreciating the moment. 
> 
> This chapter is good, too. I think I'm finally learning how to write a oneshot again haha-- this took a while, but I'm really proud of it. 
> 
> As always, PLEASE tell me what you think! I love hearing from you, and you'll get faster updates if you tell me you've read/liked it. <3 you are all so wonderful-- you keep the writing going! 
> 
> Enjoy and stay safe!

To say he was sure about it would be a lie. But what he was sure about was that he had no other choice-- not if he wanted to find out the truth. 

Not if he ever wanted to get a good night’s sleep again. 

Not if he wanted the circles under Poe’s eyes to fade, or to be able to ever fully open the link between them again. With the bond open, Poe could _feel_ his dreams-- he could sense the way that Finn tensed up in the night, and Finn could feel the way that the other man reached out to soothe him. Every morning he woke up to see his pilot with deeper shadows under his eyes, and a brighter smile to hide them. 

He still thought Finn didn’t know. And, as he sat at the kitchen table in the Dameron house, Finn held onto that fact-- he wasn’t the only one keeping a secret to try to fix this situation. 

“I can help you, easily. But I sense that _you’re_ not fully on board.” Luke was studying him with his piercing gaze, looking straight through him with his sister by his side. 

Leia had a sad smile on her face, looking at him the same way that Luke was-- Poe called it _Force User X Ray Vision._ Finn clicked his fingernails on the side of his caf cup, his only hope sitting in front of him. At least, his only hope now that he and Rey had… _talked_. 

The pang of tangled concern and betrayal strangled his chest, and Finn swallowed around the lump in his throat. 

“Rey isn’t in a confident place with her Force capabilities right now-- she’s on her way to figuring things out. Closer than you might think.” Leia read his mind, “Does Poe know? It might help to have someone there with you--”

“No—” he said a bit abruptly. Like speaking his name would somehow summon him “He wouldn’t… he’d just try to stop me.”

“Letting someone into your mind is a delicate thing, Finn. Especially when I don’t know what I’m gonna turn up in there.” Skywalker was still fixing him with that _look_. Finn’s skin prickled with the sensation of the other man, the feeling of his gaze pressing into him-- that was only a fragment of how _this_ would feel, and he knew, with a sinking in his gut, that this was going to be hard. 

But he still had to. He had to find out more about these dreams, he had to make it stop in a way that didn’t take both him and Poe down the same rabbit hole he went down after Ren and Jakku. 

“It’ll be even harder to do when you don’t trust me.” Luke piped up into his thoughts, finding the thing buried the deepest and holding it up to the light. He smirked when Finn stumbled around a reply. “It’s okay.” 

“I would do it if I wasn’t so rusty--” Leia apologized “But Luke is here to help. You can trust him-- with this, if nothing else.” 

He knew that-- he technically did, anyway. He trusted him enough to _ask_ , at least, as much as he hated it. He was trusting Luke Skywalker with the window to his past and the key to his future. To some type of closure. It tied itself up in his chest, but his instinct was still telling him that he was making the right choice. He was doing the _right thing_. 

“It’ll be painful, and I can’t tell you what you’ll remember-- but I won’t fail you, Finn.” 

Something in it settled the erratic edges of his nerves, a balm in his blue gaze. 

“D’you still want my help?” 

Finn could only nod, digging his fingers anxiously into his palms where the scars were still pink and raised. He _had_ to do it. 

But he didn’t want to do it alone. 

That was when the garden door slammed open, and there was Poe-- sweat glistened on his forehead, his curls falling haphazardly over his forehead. If Finn wasn’t so preoccupied with the knot of dread and annoyance rising up his throat, he’d think about how badly he needed a haircut. 

But Poe had a very particular look on his face. His jaw was set, a muscle jumping where he’d tensed it. It was the fiery gleam in his eyes, though, that made Finn purse his lips and repress an eyeroll. 

He had to do this. The last thing he needed was the way Poe was looking at him right then. The look of _You’ve been ignoring the bond_ and _I haven’t seen you damn near all day._

What it really said was _I’ve been worried sick, asshole._ But it wasn’t going to come out that way. 

“Fancy running into you here-- are you not ignoring me anymore, or did I catch you before you could run?” his smile was sharp. It had too many shiny, white teeth. Finn put a conscious effort into his slow, deep breath. 

Poe hadn’t made a scene since Leia slapped him on the Bridge all that time ago. He’d been doing so well.

“Poe, I can explain.” he dared to start, just wanting to minimize the number of eyes on them both “Let’s go talk--” _somewhere private,_ he didn’t get to finish. 

“You can _explain?”_ he cut in, smile dropping as he strode into the room like Kes wasn’t stepping out from the hall, as if Leia and Luke weren’t _right there_ “You could’ve explained a million times, all you had to do was tap into the bond. You didn’t even have to look at me, you didn’t even have to _talk!”_

The whole house rang with silence. It wasn’t as if Poe had been yelling-- it was sardonic, and cutting enough that Finn felt like he might _bleed_ , but Poe didn’t raise his voice. 

It was just that the whole house seemed to be leaning in to hear him, and how Finn would answer him-- it was hardly like they never bickered, but the Force energy in the room vibrated with the high key of Poe’s confusion, anger, and _fear_. 

He was afraid. _That_ wasn’t like their usual bickering-- Poe was afraid, and Finn was afraid, too. 

“Had a little chat with Rey.” he finally broke the hush, “Whatever you said to her, I’m sure she deserved it, but she’s right about _this_.” he gestured vaguely in Luke’s direction, the Force rippling with the same mistrust and anger that always radiated from the Damerons onto the master Jedi. 

“Rey didn’t understand--” 

“No, _you_ don’t understand!” 

“I _understand_ that neither of us will be able to sleep until I sort this out!” he snapped back, a toxic cocktail of exhausted desperation, fear, and indignance twisting up from the core of him and radiating out. At some point that he couldn’t remember, he stood and marched himself around the table to the other man, meeting him like a duel. “What I _understand_ is that you keep using our bond to hold off my nightmares, and it keeps you up all night-- for _days_ at a time. Did you think I didn’t notice? The days that you’re dozing off in meetings are the days that I actually manage to sleep through the night.”

He opened his mouth to retort, shaking his head, but Finn could feel the denial coming his way-- even through the closed off bond and the cloudy tiredness starting to obscure the fight between them. 

“ _Don’t--_ it’s not like when I do it for you, Poe.” he cut off the thought “I can do it and still sleep, you don’t. You sit there and pour _all_ that _energy_ into the bond. I’m surprised you’re still standing!” 

“This isn’t about that; it’s about letting someone into your kriffing mind to mess with your memories--”

“Yes, it is. It is _about that_ because I’m doing this for both of us.” he swallowed, wishing that Poe’s gaze hadn’t gone from hard and angry to plaintive, that he still felt like he could be mad about the interruption and the nosiness and the _eyes still on them_. “You deserve to be able to sleep, and so do I-- without worrying about how many people I’ll wake up with my dreams, or what fragment of memory I’ll have to fixate on that night! I can _feel_ my mother’s _face_ under my hands, but I have no idea who she was or where her body is!” the words ripped through him, his scarred palms offered up to the other man like her soft cheeks were still cradled there-- “I need to find out where I’m from, I need to find where I was stolen from.” an image flashed through his mind of the fire and the screams, his mom’s lifeless body crumpled on the dusty ground, and his heart clenched painfully. 

Seeing the stubborn set still in Poe’s jaw, Finn finally opened the bond and let him feel _that_. Finn might not understand the Force probe entirely, not the way Poe and Rey did, but he knew what he had to do to _fix this._

“ _Finn…”_ he sighed, dragging a hand down his face. Poe’s shoulders deflated with a hiss of breath through his nose, chewing his lip as he studied his face. It reminded him of the haunted, dull look that had been in his eyes when Finn had first clapped eyes on him. On The Finalizer. 

Silence reigned again, the house holding its collective breath while they waited for the gears in Poe’s mind to stop turning so rapidly. All the resignation and misery in those gears struck dissonance in the strings that tied their chests together, but Finn took a chance on reaching out and taking his hand in his-- still in a stubborn fist-- and held it to his chest. Finn chewed the inside of his cheek and held Poe’s unwavering gaze, massaging his fist out until he could intertwine their fingers. 

“It hurts.” he finally rasped, and Finn immediately paused, his brain not following until Poe cleared his throat and said it again, gripping Finn’s hand back “Having someone in your head-- it _hurts_. Just… just don’t resist, I guess, as much as you can. You’ll want to, but try...” 

Every word was stilted, like it pained him to say it, but Finn’s grin couldn’t be helped. Poe weakly rolled his eyes and managed a chuckle while Finn threw his arms around his neck and pulled him close. 

“You’d do it anyway-- not like you needed my permission.” 

“Doesn’t mean I wanna do it without you-- I like you better when you’re _not_ dramatically flinging doors open and shit.” he chuckled back, his words a little muffled by his face buried in Poe’s neck “It’s a gift from the Force that that door’s managed to stay on its hinges all this time.” 

“It’s been replaced a couple times.” Kes piped up, getting himself a cup of caf like he hadn’t been hanging onto their whole conversation like a mynock. 

Poe shot his dad a look, but it had no heat in it. He was probably too tired to manage more. 

“Finn-- have we had sufficient drama? Are you ready?” 

That was when he remembered Luke and Leia were still there, too. They were going to do this _today,_ right _now._ Finn swallowed and steeled himself to reply when Poe griped “Does it _have_ to be _him?”_

“Rey won’t touch any of us with a 10-foot pole, and Leia’s got enough to do.” he replied, not even bothering to chastise him for being rude. It wasn’t like Finn liked him much either. 

“He’s trying to make things right--” Leia tried to defend him. 

“And I’m _right here_.” Skywalker finally seemed to lose a little of his seemingly boundless patience, sighing. With that, the whole tone of the room shifted, the Force crackling like a storm was coming. 

“Yeah, and my wife’s in the garden.” Kes scoffed darkly, at the same time Poe sneered out “Yeah, ten years too late.” 

Leia hissed out a long, tired breath, squeezing her brother’s hand before letting him turn on his heel and retreat to the back bedroom-- “Come in whenever you’re ready, Kid. But I don’t have all day and you’re gonna need a little recovery time, so factor that into your schedule.” 

The Force energy in the room was pained, disappointment and guilt wafting through the air like smoke. 

Finn swallowed, and tried to push the animosity out of his head, glancing over at Leia to see the pinched look on her face. She met his gaze and shrugged. 

“He’s trying to do the right thing-- no one can change the past.” she pushed herself back from the table and made her own way toward the garden, looking out the window facing the jungle as if she was searching for something “That’s something we’ll all have to start accepting soon, if this war is ever going to be won.” 

And she left, the door softly clicking shut behind her. 

Kes’s wry expression was buried in his cup as he took a burning hot sip of caf, but he still managed a tight smile at them before motioning to the closed door Luke had gone through. 

“It’s more important to stick together through shit like this than it is to agree on it-- and whether trusting Luke is a good idea or a bad one, we’re all here to help you deal with what comes after.”

“So, you think it’s a bad idea?” Finn didn’t want to know the answer. Poe was studying his dad’s every move, watching as the man shrugged. 

“It doesn’t matter what I think. That’s the thing--” he set down his mug and walked over to them, a warm hand on each of their shoulders where they still stood close together “When I married Shara, I made her an important promise, that I would never cage what belonged in the sky. Her decisions were hers, and I’d be there for whatever she needed-- whether that be advice before the fact or a hand to hold through whatever came after.” 

He squeezed Finn’s shoulder, and the ring felt warm against his chest, hanging next to his heart. It felt right. 

“It’s a hard promise to keep, but it’s worth it. You can trust your own judgement as much as you can trust Poe. Especially in Force bound couples, individuality is important.” Then, he took a deep breath “For the record, and I never said this—if you’re gonna trust Luke Skywalker with anything, you can trust him with this.”

He gave Poe another small, tight smile, like the words just _couldn’t_ come out anymore, giving Finn the impression that they weren’t the only ones who couldn’t sleep. Then, he took his caf and he left. 

Finn took Poe’s hand again before leading the way toward the closed bedroom door. Until they were stopped-- _again_ \-- by the door slamming open. 

He whirled around, entirely ready to tell whoever it was that they were damn busy, and whatever they wanted could wait. His nerves were fluttering in his chest like rapidly beating wings, a spark of irritation lighting up his spine-- but then he followed Poe’s gaze. 

He was _smiling_. 

BB-8 rolled across the floor with an excited whir, like they were waiting for praise. They rolled in circles around their feet, but even Poe wasn’t giving them the attention they were looking for. 

Rey looked rough. It was hard to tell if it was the lack of a good wash, the exhaustion hanging under her eyes, or the sheepish look on her face. 

“I… I can’t _do it_ , but--” she explained breathlessly, and Finn’s answering grin seemed to come all the way from the tips of his toes, leaving him warm and satisfied. The Force let loose a chord that reverberated through all three of them. “You’re going to need someone, and I can't just leave you.” 

He just held out his free hand for her to take “Be with me?” he asked, just as sheepish. He’d said such terrible things to her. She just smiled back at the both of them, and raced across the room to take the offered hand. 

He would do what he had to do-- but he didn’t have to do it alone.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This. Chapter. Is. So. Long. I. Got. Carried. Away. 
> 
> But, what can I say? When we ultimately come down to it, this whole series is about Poe and Kes. And Poe needed a moment. And, I LOVE WRITING ABOUT BABIES SO MUCH. So, it ended up being really long and a little angstier than I intended (some brief, borderline suicidal discussion. BE WARNED IF THAT'S A TRIGGER FOR YOU. This also has a lot to do with outliving a parent-- if that type of grief is something that might be triggering to you BE WARNED OF THAT TOO.) But, it's also sweet, and the next chapter is just straight up fluff.
> 
> This chapter introduces a little bit more of Yavinic culture, too! The language! At first, I was going to go with spanish, but I'm an anthropologist/archaeologist and there are few things as cool to me as old languages and cultures. So, I simplified the syntax of Yucatec Mayan language into a new language: YAVINIC! The language is gonna have more use in the future, I'm so excited to learn more about it! 
> 
> OKAY. The last thing is the cliffhanger I left y'all off with last chapter-- yes, you find out where Finn is from and stuff in this chapter. But, in two(ish) chapters, we'll get to see a LOT more of what his force probe and his memories were like from his POV-- I've actually already had a lot of it written because I HAVE HAD IT PLANNED FOR SO LONG. FINALLY. So, if you're disappointed that this chapter doesn't immediately get into it, don't worry. I haven't forgotten our little Finn <3 He has his own chapters to get his closure. 
> 
> As always, comment and let me know what you think! Thank you so much! Stay healthy and safe!!!

_"If I had a credit for every time a new father looked at me with those moon-sized, terrified eyes and told me that_ everything’s fine _, I’d be a very rich woman.”_

_That was what Ana had replied when he’d said just that, holding the tiniest, most fragile thing in the galaxy in his arms, and trying to walk the fine line between having a secure grip and not accidentally strangling his son._

_“No, really-- it’s okay. I’ll just let Shara rest and… It’s just me and the little guy for a few hours.”_

_His friend turned to check briefly on the dark bedroom where Shara was passed out, tear tracks still fresh on her cheeks, with a wild mess of curls sticking out from under the covers. The list of everything she’d need to recover was lying on the kitchen counter, and Kes ached to go and look over it._

_He didn’t dare take a step, though. Part of him was thoroughly convinced that something would happen if he moved. He could wake the baby. He could_ drop _the baby._

_There was a baby now. It was a lot to wrap his brain around._

_“I can stay if you need me to--”_

_“It’s late, Ana, go home to Itza and all your other little ones.” he sighed and smiled, the late hour taking its toll out on his heavy eyelids “We both know you shouldn’t stay. I’m gonna be a dad forever-- I might as well start now.”_

_There was something thrilling and unreal about the statement. The words got caught in his throat and he had to steal another glance down at the little pink rosebud of his son’s lips, and the dark splay of lashes brushing his soft, round cheeks._

_How lucky was he? To get to be this boy’s dad for the rest of his life?_

_Kes swallowed, a surge of panic overtaking him for a split second where he thought that his knees might buckle-- what if he_ dropped _him? He should be sitting--_

_“Kes, relax.” Ana smiled softly, lifting a hand and squeezing his shoulder “You’re gonna be great. Stop panicking. And make sure you tell your lovely wife that, too, when she rejoins the world.”_

_He grinned, unable to wipe away his smile since he’d seen that tiny, screaming face._

_Ana stroked her hand across the thick, dark mess of hair on his son’s head, her eyes sparkling “Congratulations. He’s a little one, but he’s strong and healthy. Alabanza!” the phrase filled him with such immediate warmth, holding the bundle in his arms tighter to him “You know how to reach me if you have any questions.”_

_He couldn’t find the words to thank her enough, but he still tried, his throat choked by the whirlwind of the past day._

_She left him with a tiny heartbeat in his hands, and his own heart soaring somewhere high above his head._

_Taking slow, measured steps across the (entirely clean) living room floor-- Kes somehow managed to convince himself that he’d trip on something-- he came to lean in the doorway to their bedroom._

_Shara was nothing more than a lump in the mattress, her wild curls all sweaty and tangled from the long hours before. The day had been unexpected and brutally slow-- she squeezed his hand until he was sure his fingers would never work again, and trembled through hour after hour of kicks and contractions._

_In those first moments, she had held their son like she didn’t think he was real. Like, after every day of the past nine months she’d been waiting, growing, and talking to that belly without a single thought that a person would eventually come out. Her eyes had been quicker to catch up than her brain-- he was there, crying and squirming on her chest like a real, live baby, with thick hair and a tiny nose, eyes scrunched up against the twilight._

_And when Shara had finally realized just what they’d done, she laughed. She cried, but she_ laughed _, rubbing her shaking hands over his fragile back and cooing at his squalling face. Immediately transitioning to using her hoarse voice to comfort him with little Yavinic praises, assurances that the world may be cold, loud, and bright, but home would_ always _be comfortable._

_Kes was certain that if love could actually make a person explode, he’d be all over the walls right now._

_He sat next to his wife’s sleeping self on their bed, cradling the baby in the crook of his arm._

_Night had long since fallen, but the moons in the atmosphere lit up the sky and sent a shaft of glowing blue across the bed. Just enough light to properly look down and study the little face-- too new to be anything other than himself, not looking like either of them quite yet, and somehow unmistakably theirs._

_With a featherlight touch, he brushed down the hem of the blanket under his son’s chin to get it out of his view. He took a deep inhale and let it out long, barely aware of whether he’d breathed at all since Qui’ana handed him the sleeping bundle._

_He was so focused on keeping the baby asleep that he didn’t know how to cope when he watched the little button of a nose scrunch up and the little pucker of his lips twist--_

_What was he supposed to do? What if he cried? Shara had only just fallen asleep, she needed to sleep--_

_But, he didn’t cry. All breath left Kes’s body in that moment-- not only with the relief, but with pure awe._

_Two eyes with all the moons sparkling inside them were looking up at him. He had all the calm pensiveness that must only come with properly seeing a human for the first time. His eyes were huge and brown, taking up a good portion of his face, framed by dark lashes._

_Kes was the one with his vision blurring and his lip wobbling. He blinked rapidly to clear his eyes because he couldn’t possibly bring himself to look away. Not now, not with those eyes on him._

_Finally, he managed to make his grinning mouth form words, absolutely besotted._

_“Hi… Hi Poe. I’m your dad.” he whispered, tears on his cheeks when he finally couldn’t stop them anymore “I get to be your dad.”_

* * *

That morning, he poked his head into that same bedroom to see three lumps in the mattress, all pressed up together, side by side. The sun streamed in the window, leaving a mote of warm yellow light cast over Poe and his sleeping friends. 

Kes wouldn’t be surprised if they slept through the whole day-- between the lack of sleep for the three of them over the past weeks, and Finn’s ordeal, they deserved it. They had _needed_ it. 

They had already slept through yesterday. Luke had held Finn’s hand and tried to listen to his shaky ramblings about what he remembered-- his mother, and the brushlands, and huge monumental trees cut into strange spires. 

He was from Batuu. At least, he was _stolen_ from Batuu. Luke checked, but Finn didn’t seem to have many deeper memories. He had been so young, it broke Kes’s heart. Anything before Batuu came in flashes of image and feeling for him-- just his mother’s face, the sound of her laugh, a small, clunky ship, and the feeling of _fear_ , the sensation of running. 

They made a plan. They made as much of a plan as they could offer to him, at least. Leia’s soft eyes and pursed mouth had said exactly what Kes had been thinking-- the Resistance was running on fumes, they couldn’t afford to lose all three of their best fighters for a week. But Finn could slip out, maybe. He could go, if he needed to see the planet, and walk the ground. 

Finn had deflated with the relief, his heart in his teary eyes while he thanked her. 

Rey held his trembling hand, and Poe kept a protective arm around him, studying the other man’s face with a quiet expression clouding his face. Finn was pallid and sweaty, his eyes swollen, one hand holding his forehead like he could still feel Luke’s presence inside his mind. 

Kes remembered when he’d first seen Poe in Leia’s chambers after his own ordeal-- the headache that split his skull-- and turned wordlessly from the doorway to get the kid a glass of water. Maybe he should get Kal, too. 

As he left, he could hear Leia urging Finn to get some rest. He asked Poe and Rey if they would still be there when he woke up, but that was the last of it that Kes could catch before he was too far away. 

The three had been curled up side by side ever since. They slept through all of yesterday, and usually Kes would be tempted to let them sleep, but… 

But today was an important day. Poe would tell anyone with ears that today was special-- he always had, for the last 30 years. 

Kes slipped into the bedroom, taking in the youth still on his son’s sleeping face, and the new wrinkles and scars, too. They were fine lines of worry and laughter, circling his mouth and in the corners of his eyes-- just little ones blurring into his lashline. 

His hair was getting long. Wild, dark curls splayed out on the pillow beneath him, like Shara’s, all those years ago. Kes felt a swooping sensation in his gut, his love as potent as the day they met. He had loved his son with such immediacy, so helpless under those big eyes for the first time-- he never even doubted for a moment that love like that couldn’t fade. 

He looked down at his sleeping son now, and knew that he’d been right. 

He was pressed up close to Finn, who was snuggled up under Poe’s chin. Poe’s arm was slung across the other man’s hips, the blankets pushed down in their sleep. Both of them had an arm outstretched, holding onto the young woman beside them like she might disappear. 

And maybe she would, but not today. Poe wouldn’t let her go-- it was an important, very special day. 

He was about to wake him up, to take them all out of their collective coma, when a familiar little droid rolled into the room through the open door, chirping and whirring far too loudly. 

BB-8 waited until they were next to their master, wiggling in place in a mischievous way for a long few seconds where Kes really should’ve done something. He really _should_ have tried to spare them all--

Every chamber of BB-8’s little astromech body popped open in perfect sync, erupting with a loud bang. Strips of colored confetti pelted every corner of the room, particularly the bed, where three traumatized people were finally getting a good night’s sleep and awoke to the sound of a kriffing _bomb_ going off. 

Poe shouted, immediately leaping into action while Finn bolted up in bed and smacked heads with Rey. All of them were bleary eyed, struggling with the sheets around their legs, while Kes stumbled through the words to get them off their guard. 

“Don’t worry! It’s just-- it’s nothing, it’s-it’s this fucking _droid--_ Poe, how d’you turn this off?!” he tried to catch the BB unit, which only rolled away with sparklers ablaze, rolling around with impossibly _more_ confetti coming out in puffs from their head. 

Poe heaved himself out of bed, scrubbing a hand down his face as he knelt on the ground and beckoned BB-8 over. 

“C’mere, Buddy-- c’mon.” he _still_ looked tired-- every second of his 30 years and then some-- as he furrowed his brow and tried to parse out the rapid, declarative beeping. 

And then, his brow smoothed out and his eyes went soft, and a little sad. 

“Oh. It’s my birthday.” 

Kes could remember the year Poe turned 16. And when he turned 6. And every year in between, before he enrolled and left for the Flight Academy-- Poe had never _forgotten_ his birthday for a single second, in his whole life. 

“I was so busy, we’ve been so… Thanks, Buddy. Maybe ease up on the velocity of that confetti next time, okay?” 

The droid only cooed, rolling right into Poe’s side and leaning into him until he managed a smile, throwing an arm around the metal ball of their body. 

“No, it’s okay, y-you did a good job.” 

Kes stuck a red flag in the whole situation, waiting for his son's eyes to catch his, his brow raised in naked concern. 

“I was just about to wake you all up when your droid brought in the parade.” he explained. Poe smiled, ignoring the look on his dad’s face. 

“Wait-- it’s your birthday?” Rey piped up, looking more alive than she’d been since Kes had ushered her off the Falcon all that time ago. 

“Have we really been asleep that long?” Finn added, still a little ashen in his cheeks. 

Poe, despite every scrap of evidence from birthdays past, looked like he would like nothing more than to be swallowed up by the ground beneath him. 

“C’mon BB-8-- let’s get you cleaned up.” 

And he disappeared as quickly as he could, before anyone could get a word out. 

* * *

He didn’t even glance at the Force Tree as he made his way across the blistering hot field to the barn, his little droid beeping along at his side. 

“Happy birthday to you, too, Buddy. We’ve been together 12 years now.” 

He got a trill back that made him chuckle. It seemed to say _Of course-- the only birthday worth celebrating this whole time was mine._

“Well, it’s more exciting to me than mine.” 

_You’re being maudlin-- 30 isn’t that old._ The binary spelled out, and Poe paused in collecting the rag and the oil, wondering where his droid learned the word _maudlin._ It also gave him an idea. 

He supposed it wasn’t too big of a stretch to just let people believe that he was being vain, mourning his youth. Being 30 was definitely weird. It felt exactly the same as being 29-- guilty, out of place, constant anxiety lingering in the back of his mind-- but somehow it was worse. It was _terrible_. 

There was a feeling in his chest like a tug beneath his sternum, familiar and irritating. It wasn’t Finn. It didn’t even feel like Rey, not that he really thought that he’d know _that_ if he felt it. It was so old and so familiar, like _home_ in his chest, trying to pull him back toward the house. 

He took a deep breath to soothe his shaking hands, and shook his head to better ignore the feeling. Only then, he was bombarded by a flood of memories that filled his mind while he looked around the barn. 

The A Wing was all fixed up under the tarp in the center of the musty makeshift hangar, and Poe could almost swear that he smelled _her--_ engine grease and sweetened caf and floral perfume. 

He didn’t dare pull aside the canvas, convinced for a horrible, hopeful second that if he pulled it away the present would fall apart. That he’d still be 8, getting a lesson on engine mechanics from a pair of hands with oil stains that matched his own. Grease under their nails, and curls pulled back from their eyes. 

Poe wrung the rag in his hands until he was certain it would rip in two, taking in a shuddering breath and willing himself not to dwell on the smell in the air. 

He took BB-8 apart and put them back together, cleaning each part and testing every mechanism. It wasn’t what he’d planned, but he hadn’t really had one in the first place. He had totally forgotten that today would be a day to avoid. 

It was nice-- the best he’d felt in days, really-- to just lose himself back in the rhythm of something so simple and clear, helping someone that he loved so much. BB-8 had been his constant companion for so long. Every once in a while, Poe needed to really get under the little droid’s hood, make sure they were still doing okay. 

He was procrastinating, he knew. He’d have to go back to the house and check on Finn eventually. He’d have to make sure Rey hadn’t run off into the jungle again. 

When had he become responsible? Maybe that was part of being 30. 

He was just clicking the last bits of his buddy back into place and polishing their lens when he felt a tender pressure in the center of him-- Finn asking to be let in. Poe sighed, steeling himself before he opened the bond to let him in. 

_You okay?_

_You’re the one who just woke up from a Force probe-- are_ you _okay?_

He could feel the exasperated hiss Finn must’ve let out, see the way he pursed his lips at him in his mind’s eye. 

_Answering a question with a question? Didn’t we just talk about communication?_ He replied _My brain’s a little scrambled, but I distinctly remember you beating down your own door to yell at me about communication--_

 _Hey, hey-- I did not_ yell _. That’s important._ He cherry-picked the statement-- it wasn’t like Finn couldn’t feel at least some of Poe’s emotions right then. He knew something was up. _I’d just rather not talk about it. I’ve been cleaning up BB-8._

_You’ve been cleaning up BB-8 for 14 hours-- sun’s gonna go down soon. Come back, let’s celebrate a little. We could all use something nice for a change. Especially you._

_Yeah,_ that’s _what I deserve._

_What? Poe, get back here right now._

The thing about letting someone else hear and interact with your thoughts is that sometimes you forget that they can hear _all_ of them once you’ve let them in there. Poe winced. 

So much for pretending to be vain, at least for one person.

He turned BB-8 back on and let the systems whir to life. The blinking lights and experimental rolling brought Poe back to himself-- the tug in his gut and the thought of being 30 years old almost too much for him. He still managed a smile down at his droid when they beeped up at him in thanks. 

He’d have to face it all sometime. He knew that he’d have to go back for so long-- it was time to go back. That was why he packed up and headed back toward home. It had nothing to do with the easing tension in his chest as the Force let up, the tug getting gentler as he got closer. 

He tried to walk past the Force Tree again, without a single look. He tried to put on his blinders and not acknowledge his mother’s tree even though he _knew_ deep down that she was the one who’d brought him home. 

He had just gotten to the garden gate when he felt a sudden gust of wind in the still air-- a leaf smacking into the back of his head. 

He smiled despite himself, lip wobbling a little in a way that it hadn’t in past years as he reached back to take the leaf and feel the thin leather of it under his fingers. 

_Ki’imak Ka’aaba, Baby,_ it said _._

“ _N'ib oolal,_ Mama.” he whispered into the last of the breeze before the dry season air went still again. 

“Poe-- Where’ve you been? _C’mon_ .” BB-8 rushed up through the garden to the door when Rey called out across the grass. He could make a nasty joke about where _she_ had been, but-- he liked having his friend back far too much to jeopardize it. 

He’d be kind-- it was his birthday, after all. It had nothing to do with the tug of Shara close to his heart, telling him what to do. 

“ _Ki’imak Ka’aaba_ , Poe!” 

It was a whole chorus, most stumbling through the Yavinic like schoolchildren, as he crossed the threshold from the garden into his kitchen-- he grinned, swallowing the nasty, sour taste in his mouth to take in the happy faces of his friends and family. Snap and Jess were on the transmission holo on the kitchen table, Finn and Rey, Leia, Rose and the Doc-- everybody was there. Even Luke was there, and Poe barely even minded. The whole of the base had somehow managed to squeeze into his living room. Some Yavinites were even there-- old, familiar faces that he hadn’t realized he’d missed. Itza and Caden waved at him from the sidelines, Qui’ana and Kes were side by side at the edge of the throng, grinning.

Poe took special note of _that_ , before turning to Finn as he extended a hand and pulled Poe into the party. 

_“Happy birthday, Commander Dameron-- how does it feel to be old like the rest of us?”_ Snap’s holo called out to him, while Leia pressed a glass into his hand with a wink. 

He sipped it to hide his wince, the alcohol burning down his throat, satisfying and grounding, before he chuckled back to his friends “Well, I’ll always be younger than you two, so I guess I’ll never know.” 

_“That’s cold-- I thought we were friends!”_ Jess teased. 

It helped him forget for long enough to enjoy it for a while. To make his appearance. He talked to Snap and Jess. He caught up with Itza and Caden and the belly between them. He kept a close eye on how Ana stood next to his father, and wondered— maybe even _hoped_ for whatever the Hell _that_ was.

He checked on Finn. He cupped his face with his hand and studied him for the evidence of what they had let Luke do, he looked for anything other than the determination and love in his eyes-- but it wasn’t there. 

“How’re you feeling?” He murmured, and Finn just rolled his eyes fondly, saying clearly _I'm the one who's supposed to worry too much, shut up._

“I’m great. I know what I need to do, I have the opportunity to do it, I…” he shrugged, trailing off and pulling Poe in closer to him, his hands on his hips. “What the Hell were you talking about earlier? How’re _you_ feeling?” 

It was Poe’s turn to shrug. “Can we talk about it later? I… I think I just need some air.” 

He was sure to stroke his thumb over Finn’s cheek, and let him press his lips to the corner of his mouth before he turned away. It was a promise of sorts, and Finn squeezed his hips to tell him the message was received. 

The evening air was still and hot, the moons lighting up the field and the barn. The Force Tree swayed, it’s branches reaching up toward the sky in celebration. It made his chest ache, and he dropped down to sit on the stoop of the garden. 

It wasn’t about being “old”. It wasn’t about the war, even. Well, maybe it was. He could barely think anymore. 

“What’s goin’ on, Kiddo?” 

Dad asking was different than Leia or Rey— even Finn— asking. The clench of anxiety that gripped his ribcage loosened to the point where he could breathe. He sipped his drink and tugged a hand through his hair while Kes lowered himself down to sit next to him. 

“Your hair’s getting long.” He commented, keeping it bland while Poe gathered his thoughts, a lazy smile on his face. Poe just nodded. 

“It’s not a vision problem yet— I’ll cut it soon.” 

The quiet stretched on— the sounds of the party inside the house behind them, and the nocturnal jungle in front of them. Poe swallowed and cleared his throat, unsure where to start. 

“I, um… I’m older than Mom.” he finally rasped, a tremble in his voice. “I’m older than Mom ever got to be now.” 

A hand wrapped around his and squeezed, casting a quick glance over to see Kes’s profile in the glow of the Force Tree and the moons. He’d been trying not to say a thing-- he’d been thinking about it for weeks, dreading the day. And now that it was here, he blurted it out in the first five seconds of a conversation with his dad. 

He could see how Kes’s jaw tightened as he tried not to show any reaction to Poe’s words, and the guilt knotted itself in his gut. 

“I can’t stop thinking about it. Being home-- after Ren, and the last Star Destroyer, and _C-Crait…_ I can’t help feeling like I’m living on borrowed time.” his hand shook in Kes’s grip, and he stroked his thumb over Poe’s knuckles, shaking his head wordlessly. 

“Dad, I can’t-- I can’t fail again if the First Order takes me, I’ve f-failed so many times--”

“No. Poe, _stop_ it!” Kes snapped, using his grip on his hand to tug Poe against his chest and wrap his arms around him. He wound his fingers into his overgrown hair and held him there like he could single handedly keep him safely away from his thoughts. “You have _not_ failed-- you’re still here. We’re all still--”

“But _that’s_ the problem!” he cried, tearing himself back to look his dad in the eye, sloshing what was left of his drink out of his glass. He whirled around and found himself standing on shaky legs, looking down at Kes, his back to the jungle and the Force Tree. 

Kes looked utterly heartbroken. Poe could feel the ripples of that bone-deep sadness through the humid air, and his words got caught in his throat. 

“What d’you mean?” Kes finally asked, more breath than question. He also stood, standing just inside Poe’s reach. 

“I… It just feels a little too poetic. Y’know? To be her age and all--”

“No, what did you mean when you said that _that_ was the problem? What is that?” Kes knew the answer, and the pressure inside him just kept building, digging up the deep seated thoughts that he had spent so long burying. Since Jakku, and Starkiller, and losing so much of his squadron, and the Ambush, and _Crait--_ Poe had never let himself think it all out loud. 

“I don’t deserve to be alive, and if I had succeeded before, I wouldn’t be.” it all came out unbidden, like he would explode if it didn’t all get said. Now that Finn was okay and Rey was back in the fold, he had nothing to distract himself from the agony of his own guilt, and it crushed into his chest until he was sure he’d never breathe again. 

Kes kept his own face carefully neutral, the only betrayal of his emotions in the way he chewed the inside of his cheek. 

“If you hadn’t survived Jakku, the galaxy would be far worse off--”

“I’m not talking about Jakku.” his voice cracked on the word, his throat hoarse “I’m talking about _now_ . There’s maybe fifty total Resistance fighters scattered across the galaxy, and if I had been stronger, we’d all at least be in one place, but I-I sold out the location of the base on that Star Destroyer, and I should be _dead--_ ” 

He hadn’t even noticed that he’d dropped his empty glass, that he was using his free hand to massage his left, once-broken hand. 

He had betrayed the Resistance to save Finn. He did it with half a tortured brain, thinking about the one choice that they had given him that left a sliver of a chance for Finn to at least be killed-- to not be forced back into his worst nightmare, serving the First Order. 

It was worth it. That was the most terrible thing. Poe was _okay_ with it because Finn was still there, even if the Resistance had been scattered across the galaxy and their ability to defeat the First Order was all but crushed. 

He was selfish. And cowardly. And he didn’t deserve to live longer than the woman who had made every sacrifice to give the future generations an easier, more peaceful galaxy-- to give Poe the childhood he got to have. 

He felt lighter having said it out loud, with his only audience being his dad and the garden and the force tree. He deflated with the weight of his sigh, the tug of his mom in the center of his core was the only thing keeping him standing. Kes reached out slowly, a tear that he couldn’t blink away rolling down his cheek as he met Poe right where he was and wrapped him up in a hug. 

It held him together. Like on the duracrete on D’Qar, and in his childhood bedroom after their _miraculous_ escape to Yavin. 

“I’ve been holding you for a long time. You know, I never want to have to stop.” Kes finally murmured like he could read his mind, the Force stronger between them than either of them were willing to acknowledge. He hummed close to his ear, breathing long and slow to bring Poe’s fluttering heart back to some sense of calm. “No one begrudges you your love, Poe. You and Finn have something that transcends war--”

“But--” 

“No buts. What happened happened, and dwelling on it now is helping no one-- especially not you. Not Finn, or the Resistance, or your _mother_ , either.” He pulled back to look him in the face “Never _ever_ talk about yourself that way again. _Never_ , Poe. Don’t you ever die just for the sake of it, or squander the fact that you have more time to help this fight. You can be brave, and you can make sacrifices, and if you have to _die--_ we’ve talked about this before. I… I’d rather you didn’t. But, you can’t cage what belongs in the sky.” 

Finally, Poe felt like he was getting the air that he came out to the garden to get in the first place. The dry season air had a light breeze that hadn’t been there before, winding through the bushes and nudging the two of them back toward the house. Back to Poe’s birthday party. 

He was 30. It still felt the same as 29, but different. Different, but not terrible-- the guilt still hung around his shoulders, but now the light of an old familiar Force energy was settled behind his sternum that he hadn’t been willing to let in before. 

“I’m not gonna die if I don’t have to, Dad.” he finally said, looking the man in the eyes “I promise.” 

Kes grinned, his lip wobbling and his eyes swimming, and he cupped Poe’s cheeks like he was a little kid. 

“ _Ki’imak_ _Ka’aaba_ , Baby.” he whispered “You talk to me when you need me, okay? Maybe that way, you don’t forget how to enjoy a party.” 

He grinned, sniffling back to him “Me? _Never--_ ” 

“Hey Poe?” 

There was a mote of warm light from the threshold to the house, Finn standing in the doorway with Rey poking her head in behind him. 

“You two alright? Snap and Jess are asking after you-- Snap says that he’s gonna start telling stories about Coruscant if you don’t pay attention to him--” 

“AY!” Poe jumped into action, a laugh startled out of him by the messy clusterfuck that mission had been-- it was the raw, wet type of laugh that came with laughing under circumstances like this. It sounded almost like a sob, remembering when the rush of his missions had outweighed his fear of loss. Once upon a time, this had been noble, and he was making a difference— it was _fun._

“Okay, I’m coming, I… Gimme one second.” he sighed, squeezing his dad one more time and reveling in that moment where he felt like _himself_ , jogging back up to the stoop.

After all, it _was_ his birthday. 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AS PROMISED: A short chapter full of fluff and damn near nothing else! 
> 
> The song inspiration for this chapter is Sunrise from In the Heights, and if you listen to it, you'll know EXACTLY what part it inspired haha 
> 
> Let me know if you like it! <3 I've put you all through so much angst-- we all deserve this little breather.

“Think you can take another round?” 

“Do your worst, Dameron.” 

Finn stretched his body out long, the first rays of dawn lighting up the soft skin and strong muscles of his chest. It was a delicate thing-- dusky pinks and oranges filtering in between the shadowy leaves and tree trunks, the light turning his skin to deep gold. Poe kissed his shoulder where he lay pressed up beside his lover in the grass, grinning against him when he felt him chuckle. 

“Are you gonna just lie there all day?” he broke into the background song of waking birds and wildlife. The waterfall was constant and calming, but Poe’s heart jumped in his chest at the challenge. 

He nipped at the skin he’d just kissed, flipping himself up to bracket the other man’s hips and looking down on him. 

He grinned, biting his lip as he surveyed  _ Finn--  _ not even trying to hide the gleam in his eyes. 

He was the most stunning thing-- man, woman,  _ pixan _ ,  _ anything _ \-- that he’d ever seen. He was smiling back at Poe, hands coming up to hold his hips, eyes going a little glazed and hot as Poe ran his hands across his bare chest. The dawn’s light was a blaze of orange and yellow, pouring down over the top of Finn’s head and drenching his frame in warmth, making him glow. The last vestiges of the night were in the shadows of him, swaths of violet clinging to his dark brown skin where the dawn hadn’t reached. 

Poe traced his fingertips in a featherlight caress down the column of his throat to the center of his chest, where his ring rested against his heart. Finn took a sharp inhale and let it out slow. 

He  _ didn’t dare  _ think about how he’d be losing Finn in just a few short hours. He swallowed hard and put the thought aside-- this was a war. They’d take the peace that they could get. And besides-- he thought about the night before-- what a way to start 30. 

For now, he’d think about teasing a beautiful man in their own little patch of jungle, with dawn light pouring in. 

Poe took hold of the ring and pinched it between two fingers, holding it up for the other man to see. “What’s this?” he laughed. 

Finn was blindsided by the question, still lost in the memory of Poe’s touch and his weight across his hips. 

“Um, I--  _ Poe _ , that’s not  _ fair!” _ he laughed. 

He cocked an eyebrow at him, waving the ring in front of his eyes with a cheeky smile. 

“Fine-- it’s uh, it’s a  _ Ts’pit… _ ” he thought “It’s a  _ Ts’pit k’ab? _ ” 

It sent a rush of warmth through his blood to hear those lips speaking  _ his language _ . Poe pretended to look around and ponder, fiddling with the ring before dropping it and pointing over to the temples around them.    


“ _ Templo _ .” Finn replied, more confident. 

“How about me?” Poe teased, dropping his gaze to look through his lashes. 

Finn squeezed his hips “ _ juntuul maak _ .” 

“Damn right.” he ground himself down a little, grinning while Finn chuckled breathlessly. 

He was going to lose him in just a few short hours. For the first time since they were in tiny cells and Poe was dragged away where Finn couldn’t follow. Suddenly, the night didn’t feel like  _ enough _ , and Poe stopped circling his hips. He was sure that Finn could feel it through the bond. He was so  _ strong  _ with the Force. 

“I can sense how hard you’re thinking.” Finn cut into his thoughts, his smile slipping into something more tender. 

“Wanna make me stop thinking?” he tried to tease, but his tone was just a little too forced. 

Finn ran his scarred palms up Poe’s bare sides and pulled him down to rest his head on his chest. His heart thumped in a soothing rhythm under his ear, and Poe could cry, he loved him so much. He wanted to tell him to stay, or let him come too-- 

But, that wouldn’t be right. Finn needed to do this alone. 

“Sure you don’t need a pilot?” He asked anyway, serious and joking in equal measure. 

Finn’s expression crumbled a little, taking one hand off his hip to cover Poe’s hand over the ring. “I always need my pilot. I just… I’m lucky Leia’s letting me go at all. If I took you with me, the Resistance would be sitting ducks while we’re gone.”

He wanted to roll his eyes, shake his head, tell Finn he was wrong, but he knew he wasn’t. As long as Rey was refusing the Force, they couldn’t stand to lose Finn  _ and  _ Poe at once. 

“I’m gonna be okay, Poe-- I learned how to fly from the best in the galaxy.” he placated, but Poe wasn’t satisfied. “Leia needs you here.” 

“Just… just let BB-8 take care of the autopilot, and you’ll be there in no time.” he repeated for what was probably the millionth time. Finn let him, only meeting him with one, long-suffering sigh. 

“Teach me more?” he sounded almost timid, and Poe nuzzled against his chest, taking a long moment of listening to the jungle and Finn’s steady pulse. 

“ _ Ooxoj _ .” he said it against warm skin, feeling the sun start to rise properly through the trees. 

“Heat.” Finn answered, running his hand up Poe’s spine. 

_ “T’sook aak’ab.” _ it came out as a whisper, murmured between the memories of how Finn had brought him to the exact spot where Poe had taken him-- out to the soothing aura of the temples and the clearing of soft grass. The feeling of his hands pressing hot into his cool skin, surrounded by the night air and the lightning bugs. 

Poe sat back up to look down at Finn while he translated “Last night.” 

_ Finn had whispered in his ear “Ki’imak Ka’aaba”, and Poe had never felt so full, and so loved-- all their fights were forgotten, all the nightmares and desperate measures they’d had to take. It had been just the two of them.  _

“How d’you say  _ kiss me?”  _ he looked up at Poe like he was the most precious thing in the galaxy, and despite every kiss he’d given in his life, and all the charm he’d used, Poe Dameron  _ blushed  _ in the early morning sun. 

Finn sat up, Poe’s legs coming to curl around his waist as he propped himself up, brushing their noses together. 

_ “Ts’uuts’en.” _ he whispered, their lips already touching. 

The kiss felt like the sunrise itself, inside his chest banishing the dew and the chill of the night, heat radiating out to his toes. Finn was hesitant to pull away, and Poe shamelessly chased his lips. 

“How d’you say  _ I love you?”  _

“ _ In yaakunech.”  _

The memory of last night reverberated between them, flashes of vision and feeling echoing through their bond, knitting them closer than flush as Poe smiled into the crook of Finn’s neck. He kissed his pulse point and the chain of the ring, wishing he could tell his lover just how much that little silver band meant _.  _

He rolled them over until Poe was back in the grass, Finn’s full, grinning lips meeting his own as the sun rose over the jungle. 

“I love you.” Finn translated.  _ “In yaakunech… In yaakunech. _ ” he repeated it like a mantra, smiling into Poe’s hair. 

“ _ In yaakunech…”  _ echoed into Poe’s brain to the point where he didn’t know if Finn was saying it or thinking it into their bond. 

The high, sweet vibration of the link tying them together left him trembling, humming against the other man’s lips, and smiling as those kisses made their way down the column of his throat. He held Finn in his hands, he cradled the energy in his center, and he felt one single word drawn up from his soul: 

“ _ Alabanza.”  _

* * *

“I want you to take the A Wing.” 

He said it as they headed back to the house, the treeline of their haven in the jungle was a shadowy oasis compared to the blazing heat of the uncovered fields-- but the dry season sun wasn’t the only reason why Poe was sweating. 

Finn was giving him a wide eyed look, the  _ Are you serious? Me? A novice pilot? Flying your mom’s ship?  _ type of look. Poe just bit his lip, looking back at him with all the certainty in the galaxy. 

“It’s fast, the controls are simple, and I  _ just  _ finished the repairs-- there’s not a single flaw in the whole sha-bang. Take it, Finn.”  _ I need to know that you’re safe,  _ he didn’t say, but it was clearly heard.    


It was probably the only reason why the other man eventually nodded, squeezing Poe’s hand in his as they started off toward the barn. A small crowd was gathering by the doors, and BB-8 was scurrying across the fields to meet them, making the tall grass wave as they cut a path through. 

Poe grinned, even though he couldn’t imagine letting go of Finn’s hand and letting him go. He was going, alone, to an intergalactic backwater with nothing but a blaster and an astromech to keep him safe. 

It wasn’t as if he doubted that Finn could keep himself safe-- he didn’t  _ need  _ Poe or Rey or anybody looking out for him. If anything,  _ they  _ were the ones that needed Finn. 

It didn’t make him feel any better to send him on his way. Even the A Wing was a small comfort. 

Still, Poe walked with him, BB-8 rolling around their feet, all the way to the barn. The A Wing had already been rolled out and R2 and BB-8 had fully prepped it for takeoff with Rey-- Poe may have told her about the A Wing before he brought up the idea to Finn, but he didn’t say a word about it. Even when Finn shot him a  _ look  _ that clearly told him that he knew. 

“Only the best for you, Buddy.” he winked, shooting him his most charming grin before letting go of his hand so he could get on his way. 

There were only a couple, narrow windows in which they could take off without catching the First Order’s attention. Finn didn’t have a lot of time. 

The ripples of sour anxiety came from both ends of the bond, colliding in the middle when their hands were cold and apart, but Poe just smiled and beckoned him forward to say goodbye to Rey and Rose, Leia and Kes. 

Poe didn’t mind that Luke was there, either. There was something about the feeling he got from the old jedi that he hadn’t been willing to humor before. A gentility-- it was in the way he’d tended to Finn, even while he probed into his memories. Even while he’d gripped his hand and screamed, there was a tenderness that followed Luke in the lining of his Force energy.

Poe still jutted out his chin, hardening his gaze when those piercing blue eyes landed on him across the barn threshold. There was no anger under the surface, though. At least, he couldn’t be sure. It felt more like confusion than anything. 

How much of his anger at Luke Skywalker was actually his father’s? How much of his grief for his mother was even really his? After talking about Shara last night, and seeing Dad interacting with Skywalker for all those weeks, Poe felt… lost. And then there was Qui’ana, and the way she  _ smiled  _ around him. There was an idea in the back of his mind— the idea of Kes having a  _ person _ again, so Poe wouldn’t have to worry about him being alone if he… 

How much of Poe’s grief for his mother was actually him grieving the memories of his  _ dad  _ being  _ happy? _

Poe didn’t want to hold onto all this. He was so tired of war, and he didn’t want to be mad at Luke Skywalker, and he didn’t want Finn to go when Poe couldn’t go with him—

Luke tilted his lips into a smile when they looked at each other, and it lit some sort of spark in Poe’s chest that he hated. Shaking the feeling off, he looked away, back to where Finn was solidly embracing Kes. 

And that sent a different warmth flooding through him. Rey held tight to his pack of rations and supplies, next to Rose. She handed him a commlink and pressed it into his hand before she, too, hugged him. 

They were all acting like they were never gonna see him again or something, and Poe wanted to say they were overreacting, but still had to swallow the bile in his throat at the mere idea. 

_Finn wasn’t going to find some other family and leave._ Poe reminded himself, shaking the familiar jealousy that had flared up on Endor, _He wasn’t going anywhere_. He needed this— to put together the last of the terrible pieces of his past. Poe wanted him to do it. He wanted him to find what he needed to find. 

When he needed him, Poe would be there. 

That was when Finn was back in front of him, his brow furrowed and a half a smile on his handsome face. 

“The hyperdrive is on the left— big silver lever, you can’t miss it. There should be more than enough fuel to get you there and back, and BB-8 can handle pretty much anything—“ 

“— anything I don't wanna deal with. I know all this, Poe. You literally taught me to fly, you _know_ I know this.” Finn finished for him, chuckling and nodding, but his grin slid off his face as they studied each other a little closer.  “I’ll be home soon.” 

Poe nodded “You better. Or I’m gonna have to hop in an X Wing and hunt you down.” 

“Well, when you put like that, I'll be sure to leave you some breadcrumbs...” he teased, and it made Poe laugh, a strange sense of calm spreading over him. As if he was finally willing to acknowledge that everything was going to be alright. 

“You two are truly sickening.” Rey giggled, rolling her eyes at the same time that Rose elbowed her in the side “They’re adorable and you know it.” 

Poe was the one who reached out, grabbed Finn’s hands and pulled him flush against him, arms around his shoulders and face buried in the crook of his neck. He still smelled like incense from the temples and the fresh mist of the waterfall, and Poe cupped the back of his neck to hold him tighter. 

“ _ In yaakunech.” _ he whispered with his lips pressed just under Poe’s ear, kissing the soft skin there and sending a pulse of warmth from his head to his toes. 

“ _ Alabanza.”  _ he murmured back, kissing his lips as time slowed down to a warm, sleepy pace. It slipped out between them, more breath than word, as their lips parted. 

“That’s the second time you’ve said that-- what does it mean?” 

It made his throat go a little dry. 

_ Alabanza  _ meant a lot of things to Yavin. It was said at all the festivals throughout the year. It was a stand in for any type of congratulations-- at births, birthdays, graduations, engagements, weddings, and even deaths. You could say _Alabanza_ when they had your favorite type of bread in the bazaar, or when the day was particularly sunny. All of it could be covered by that one phrase. But to have it whispered between lovers, on the end of a kiss or in vows, between the trees and pressed into the grass… All of that was something deeper. Something ancient and special, more like a prayer than an exclamation. 

It wasn't said a lot. 

And Poe said it right into Finn’s mouth like there was nothing more natural in the word. As if the ring around his neck didn’t say enough-- 

“Finn, it’s now or never.” The General cut in. Maybe it really was the last chance for takeoff, or maybe she just saw the split second of panic in Poe’s eyes. He couldn’t be sure, but he was so grateful he nearly sagged to the ground. 

“I’ll tell you when you get back.” he covered, swallowing hard before pecking one last kiss to the corner of Finn’s mouth, using the tug of the bond to send a chord of something reassuring and tender right to the center of the other man. Where he could take a part of Poe with him. 

“I’ll be home soon.”

The roar of the engine was clean and powerful, like purring to his ears, and Poe sighed in relief to hear all his hard work pay off. Finn was going to be fine. He broke through atmo and into space in seconds, and Poe was so busy with his eyes on the sky that he didn’t even glance over to see the indescribable expression on his dad’s face as he studied him. His small smile, his raised eyebrows, the way he scanned over him like something had changed. 

Maybe something _had_ changed, but Poe had a good feeling about it. 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'ALLLLLLLLLLL. I'm so happy that I finally get to share this with you. It's one of my favorite chapters of ANYTHING that I've ever written. 
> 
> It's a sad one, but it's hopeful, too. And I took a lot of care in giving Finn a birth name worthy of him. 
> 
> Please, as always, leave me a comment if you like it. I'm so proud of it all. <3

_The first press of Luke into his mind wasn’t so bad._

_He had been braced for agony, for the reason why Poe was gripping his hand so tightly where he was cross-legged on the bed beside him. He could feel the crackling nerves in the air, not only through the bond, but throughout the room-- it was from Rey, too, and from Kes outside. Even Leia had had her reservations about it, Finn could_ feel _it._

_At first it only felt like pressure. Like a hand on his forehead pressing down as if he had a fever. Luke was trying to be gentle._

_He was being gentle until he couldn’t be anymore._ That _was when Finn finally understood._

_Every muscle in his body tensed, and someone was shushing him, trying to calm him while his brain spasmed and cramped-- there was a presence burrowing through his mind and into the core of him, taking him apart and simultaneously filling every corner._

_He was going to explode. Finn was going to split apart at the seams, he was sure. His skull was pounding, and his rational mind had to shout to be heard over the desperate panic and the thud of his heart in his ears. There was no way he could survive this--_

_And then the memories started, flashing before his eyes and scrambling themselves together one over the other._

_Absently, he could feel his chest heaving and the rasp of his throat as his screams shredded it. Somewhere at his most basic level, he could feel Poe’s hands, both of them cradling his between them. His lips were resting against his knuckles, murmuring words that Finn couldn’t hear. Rey had taken his other hand, grounding him on the other side and bringing him back down to reality._

_At least, bringing him back enough to reality to feel the current of his own Force energy. It flowed up through that energetic core of him-- right where Poe’s bond tied to him, and right where he always felt his intuition kick in._

_He did what he had to do, taking a deep, shuddering breath and steeling his jaw against the urge to sob. With the Force flowing through him and his friends tethering him to the earth, Finn sifted through the memories until they started to make sense._

* * *

Flying and landing the A Wing was, thankfully, nothing like the last landing he and BB-8 had made together. He released a long hiss of breath when they made contact, the engines kicking up clouds of dust as the earth rose up to meet them. It was graceful in a way that he wouldn’t have thought himself capable of all those weeks ago— he shook away the phantom shriek of alarms and the memory of scorching that field on Endor. 

He did it. One thing that he once thought impossible was done— only a million more to go. 

He had to force himself to disembark. 

BB-8 was already out and rolling around the base of the ship by the time he made his hands stop trembling enough to open the cockpit and hop down. He didn’t know what he’d expected from the ground beneath his feet— was he supposed to feel something? An overwhelming emotional response? A sudden flash of memory where everything slid into place? A moment where all the pieces of him the First Order took instantly healed and his mother appeared before him? 

Finn didn’t even know what he _wanted_ to feel. But it was just dirt and scrubby little bushes, tree roots from ancient forests making every step the slightest bit bumpy. 

The giant stumps of those trees stretched up into the clear sky behind his landing site. The black silhouettes of petrified wood, twisted into tall spires, stood starkly in a huge crescent that spanned from behind his dusty landing and all around the city in the distance. A city he recognized. 

_His little feet sent him tripping over the roots sticking up from the ground, his heart hammering in his chest— he didn’t know why. All he knew was that there was something coming that was worth running from. A feeling inside him that he couldn’t escape._

_Finn couldn’t breathe. Finn couldn’t think— in the memory_ and _where he lay in the master bedroom of Dameron House._

_“Finn.”_

_Luke’s voice broke through the fog while Finn looked wildly around with a child’s eyes, seeing the high walls of buildings and dusty courtyards filled with bustling markets._

_He knew they would all die. That soon this city would be an inferno— he just didn’t understand what he was seeing—_

_“Finn, you need to focus.” Skywalker’s voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere, reverberating through his mind and sending tremors through his muscles. He cramped and whimpered, knowing there were tears on his cheeks only because he could feel someone wiping them away. “Tell me what you see.”_

_The ground beneath him was knotted with massive roots just under the surface, but the sun beat down on him— there wasn’t a single tree overhead._

_“S’hot…” he heard himself rasp, “the s-sun’s strong but… roots are under me. There used to be trees.”_

_The longer he talked, the less he hurt, and he stumbled over his words in every desperate second._

_“There’re nets between the buildings— it makes s-some shade… everything’s beige, but-but not sandy. Dried mud and… flags. There’s colors above me.”_

_The little boy was looking up and through his eyes, he saw all sorts of things hanging above him._

_This must be the market. There were flags and scarves fluttering in technicolor swaths from the sky, chimes blew together in the breeze and tinkled softly in a rhythm-less tune. Lanterns and jewelry, speeder parts— all of them dangled high above him. He nearly collided with a lady’s knee, he was so busy looking up at the nets._

_“Where did you go next?” asked Luke._

* * *

The city was nearly the same as he had seen it in his dreams. The markets were swarmed with people-- all types and species, from every corner of the galaxy. Finn tried not to look like he was staring (even though he sort of was), trying to take in every bump in the road beneath him, every stall and what they sold, and every building. They were packed earth, sturdy and smooth, with wide, dark roofs and small windows. 

So much of the city was open air. The windows were small, sure, but there were so many archways without doors, welcoming people to weave in and out and through. 

It was no wonder that he had gotten so lost. 

It was hot, but nothing like Yavin’s brutal dry season, coming up on a monsoon. Batuu had the feeling of a pleasant summer day, swirls of cloud occasionally cutting into the sunlight and blue skies. 

Finn took a deep breath and smelled the distantly familiar bouquet of smells that only really came by standing right where he was. There was strong, bitter caf and pipe smoke from the bars and cafes, their seating spilling out into the maze of courtyards and terraces of steps throughout the center of the town. He could smell the overpowering, combatting aromas of the different herbs and spices being peddled. Somewhere in the distance, meat was being roasted, his stomach growling at the wafting scent of the bread in the communal ovens in the open building off to his right. 

He watched the flames lick out from the sides of the huge hearth, crackling at the back of the oven-- 

_“Smoke. Smoke, I remember… Everything’s on f-fire, people are running.” he choked out, feeling like he was burning from the inside out. Like the smoke was coming out of him-- it was searing up his throat and burning in his eyes, making them tear up and spill over._

_“What’re they running from?”  
_

_“Why would you even ask that? We already know the First Order ransacked his--” Poe’s voice cut in. It was as if Finn was hearing them all through a tunnel, but he knew the pilot was trying to sound angry. He wanted to be indignant, but his panic sent ripples through the Force. Through Finn--_

_“He needs to walk through it for any evidence of where he was--” Luke replied, monotone, singularly focused. Finn felt the probe in him forge even deeper, and he whimpered as the blaster fire started to echo in his ears._

_“You have to trust him.” was the last thing he could make out from the outside world before the fire in his veins took over again._

_It had been Rey, and he didn’t know whether she was talking to him or Poe, but he tried to listen anyway. Her voice was soothing, and he gripped onto the split second of comfort that wrapped him up. He tried to relax his tensed muscles and open his mind further to Luke’s presence, but what came out was a ragged sob and a gasp for air._

_The smoke was everywhere._

_Where was he? What were they running from? The little boy in his mind whirled around as a building exploded into flames off to his right, the nets above the market rapidly taking on the blaze. Lanterns that were supposed to be sold instead blew out their glass panes from the unbearable heat, burning scraps of fabric and sharp debris raining down over him as the crowds around him started to panic._

_They were running from everything around them. Everything-- nothing was safe, and Finn had known, he felt it twist in his gut as he turned to see what was forcing these panicked people deeper into the city._

_That was the first time he saw Phasma. They all wore the same armor-- the gleaming, dark stormtrooper kit reflecting the orange fire and the first fluorescent red beams of the blasters. They all wore the same armor, but through the eyes of his young, small self, Finn knew exactly who she was. His hands were clammy with heat and sweat, but Finn could swear he felt the bone deep sting of needles driving into his tender child’s palms, already slick with blood._

_“Phasma.” he managed to growl through his dry, burning throat and his locked jaw._

_He gasped for breath, and Rey was whispering something to him about remembering to breathe. Poe’s familiar voice was softer, just for him when he said “It’s not real, Baby, the smoke’s in your mind. Breathe.”_

_The black smoke billowed out around Phasma and her troopers as they fired at the fleeing crowd, but Finn was rooted to the spot, staring in wide-eyed terror. He gripped onto the hands of his friends where he laid on the bed, with the humid wisp of a jungle breeze blowing through the window, the Force flowing through him with enough power that Finn was absently surprised that it didn’t lift him into the air._

_The smoke was all in his head. It was a memory. He sucked in a shuddering inhale and the little boy blinked hard against the acrid clouds, standing his ground as he studied the chaos in the twilight._

_There was a docking platform behind them-- the shuttle was nothing but an empty shell, the troopers already out for blood and searching for children to take and parents to kill. There were letters on the wall by the docking bay. There was a_ name _there._

_“Something on the wall… something, something, Outpost.” he read out loud._

_“Good, Finn.” Luke commented, as if his Force energy wasn’t deep inside the marrow of him, twisting up his guts. “You’re doing so well.”_

A confused-looking twi’lek shoulder-checked him out of his reverie, glancing back over at him like he was crazy. He probably did look crazy-- a glazed look in his eye, staring into the massive domed oven of the bakery like he thought it was going to explode, standing stock still in the middle of market traffic. 

Jolted back into reality, he forced his feet to move under him, forging deeper into the city center. BB-8 trilled at him, nudging against his leg with a whir that he only knew how to reply to because he’d heard it so many times before. Toward Poe, toward him, toward Rey and Rose. They even asked Leia every once in a while. 

“Yeah, BB-8. I’m okay, I just… I got a little lost in my head for a sec.” 

That was when he saw the fruit stand. The vendor was barely more than a kid, restocking piles of fruit that jogged a memory in his foggy, Force-addled brain. One with no fire or blasters, no smoke to clog his lungs-- it felt warm. And soft. 

He already knew what that fruit tasted like. He knew before he walked over like it was some sort of dream, traded his credits for a small bag of the sun-warmed summer fruit. 

_It was a day just like that one. Batuu felt new and strange, but the fresh air was better than the stuffy little ship they had hitched a ride in, and he could feel a relief in his mother that he rarely did._

_She was usually strung tight, like she was ready to run. The bright sunlight and blue sky that framed her halo of kinky curls made her look softer than before. Like she was_ happy _._

_Finn let her grip his hand and didn’t even squirm as they walked slowly through the market for what must have been the first time._

_The fruit was a treat-- not something they could afford. Maybe she felt bad for dragging him across the galaxy from wherever they used to be. Maybe the extra credits had been saved up for months for something that fell through, and now she could only give him this. There was always a sense of shame that clung to her thin frame like a heavy coat._

_Somedays, though, it was lighter. The sun shone bright and gave her soft brown cheeks a warm glow, and she lifted him up to her hip so he could pick his very own out of the pile at the stall._

_Maybe she did it because they were constantly moving, or because there was still so much about their lives that Finn couldn’t understand._

_They found a place to sit on the fringes of their bustling new home, Finn snuggled between the warmth of the planet’s midday sun and the warm body heat of his mother’s chest as she sat him in her lap. Watching the people pass by, and sinking his teeth into the soft, juicy sweetness of the treat in his hands, though, Finn could look back and remember her eyes on his face as juice dripped down his little chin._

_She said something he couldn’t remember, something fond that made him giggle as she wiped the juice away with the bottom of her sleeve._

_That_ was why she did it-- he knew that now, with juice dripping down his chin again, and tears in his eyes at the familiar, warm sweetness. She bought him something sweet so she could see him giggle and watch him grin with seeds between his little white teeth. 

A delicate sensation curled itself up in his chest, fragile and wonderful, just under his heart and sending it tenderness radiating through to the tips of his toes. It felt like when Poe finally let himself sleep and Finn could look down at him and know they were still capable of their stolen moments of peace; or when Rey dug through Shara’s boxes in the living room at Dameron House, grinning her curious grin that used to be so common as she pried story after story out of Kes and Leia. Finn had felt it while helping Kes weed the garden, and stocking the med supplies with Rose. 

It felt like love, and _home_. 

He needed to find his mother. He had to thank her for being the first person to give him that feeling. 

* * *

_He didn’t know how long he’d been running for, or why these armored people were there. All he knew was that he’d been spotted. And he was being chased._

_“Stay with me, Finn, you’re losing your focus.” Luke’s voice broke through, sending a spasm through his chest like a heart attack. He let out a low moan, too deep into his own mind to feel anything beyond the pain and the panic, Luke’s presence now throbbing in his bones._

_He couldn’t do this much longer. He felt like his bones were splintering, his skin pulsing, muscles cramped._

_“Where are you now? Tell me what you see.”_

_He’d broken through the edge of town, the sight of home in the distance-- so far for his exhausted little legs. He could feel his lungs constrict from the smoke, gasping for fresh air as he cleared the burning remnants of the tall buildings and into the brushland that stood between him and his mother._

_He stopped. Why did he stop? His knees buckled, he barely caught himself, hands splayed out in the packed, dry earth when he tumbled over. The root stuck out of the ground, and he knew now_ why _he couldn’t get back up. Why he screamed, looking at his twisted ankle, his tiny toes and the ball of his foot still wedged under the root sticking out from the ground._

_“MAMAAA!” it ripped out of his throat from the deepest parts of him, terror and pain and confusion gripping him-- he didn’t know where he was, he couldn’t see anything beyond the tears in his eyes and the small settlement where he had a shot at being safe._

_“FINN.”_

_That wasn’t Luke. It was_ Rey _. She wasn’t distant like before, she didn’t sound like she was far down a tunnel Finn couldn’t follow. She was right there inside his head. Using the Force to clear some of the smoke out of his eyes._

_“You’re not there-- you’re with us, we’re with you. Poe’s right here, I’m right here. Finn, what do you see?” her presence was gone as fast as it came, but it was like a beam of light while she was there, lighting up the night closing in around his city and his home--_

_“There’s… there’s mountains-- no, they’re not, they…” he stuttered, voice hoarse. The treeline in the distance, stretching in a crescent shape around the fields was spiked with strange black shapes. “They’re spikes, twisted and tall and… M’so tired…” he whimpered._

_There was a gentle brush against the center of him, Poe’s bond just barely managing to sneak in. It was like he used that split second to clear the last of Finn’s Force current, sweeping up through him. It was a hand to hold, a moment of reprieve before Luke was back._

_“Those are the spires of Batuu. Petrified trees from an older time.” he said, “That must be Black Spire Outpost-- this is where you were taken from.”_

He paused, his feet seeming to stick to the ground beneath him as he walked slowly through the dusty old city. He knew the buildings around him-- once upon a time, he’d seen it blown apart and ravaged. He had stood in this exact spot at one point. He knew it by the way his hands trembled and a deep pit of dread settled in his gut. 

Finn knew that he was at the landing site where Phasma arrived even before he turned to see the sign, badly chipped and faded, by the entrance to the docking platform. 

_Black Spire Outpost._ If he hadn’t been sure that Luke was right before, it was undeniable now. 

He remembered the way Rey had thrown her arms around him when Luke was finally out of his head, when the pain had faded into a dull throb and he could open his eyes. He was sweaty and exhausted, nauseous, everything in his ached. A headache had pulsed behind his eyes, and he dimly wondered about how in the Hell Poe had survived that from Ren. The other man’s chest was strong and steady against his back, holding both him and Rey tight while Finn shook apart between them. 

He had buried his face in Rey’s neck while he cried, burrowing close enough to Poe that his heartbeat thudded against his scarred back. He threw the proverbial doors of the bond open, leaning into his pilot and tangling them together until he couldn’t tell where they started and ended. Poe weaved into him, and Finn knew that he understood-- after having someone so deep in your mind, remembering so many things, Finn wanted to be anyone but who he was. He wanted to just be with _him_ , and forget. 

Finn looked at the sign for Black Spire Outpost and he wanted to go _home_. 

* * *

Exiting out the other end of the town left a stretch of unused brushland between him and a small conglomerate of houses. The field was barely half a mile off-- so changed from the way he remembered it, back when his legs were shorter and the world was so much larger.

The houses were squat, made of the same packed mud. They had broad, dark roofs like the rest of the city, and small windows all around. The memories felt clearer, and his feet took him right through the low gate—if he walked straight through the courtyard, turned left at the other end of the low mud walls around the community, and stopped at the third house…

He’d be at his own house. Where he’d lived with his mother.

Part of him had expected them to still be nothing more than rubble and ash. Who could ever rebuild on someplace so kriffing cursed?

People still _lived_ there, too. Faces poked up in the little windows of the houses as Finn made his way through the courtyard in a trance. His feet kept walking; his trembling hands shoved deep in his pockets.

“Hey!” someone called out, and Finn snapped out of his strange state, jumping a little as he whirled around. “This is my property—"

There was an old, _old_ man hobbling toward him like he was looking for a fight, waving a knotted old walking stick like it was a lightsaber—Finn started to open his mouth, tried to explain, but the words just wouldn’t come. He was trembling harder now, his eyes starting to prickle with heat, but he _would not_ cry right now.

There was something so familiar about his broad, wrinkled face. The fire in his eyes, and the yellowed teeth still left in his mouth. He limped right up to Finn’s face before he finally found the words.

“I used to live here.” He blurted out, ready to dodge the walking stick still being wielded in the air.

That made the man pause, squinting up at him through the suspicion and the sunshine.

“I… I lived here with my mom?” he cleared his throat and tried again “We were the third ones’ in on the left, we… It was about twenty years ago?” the words still came out in a hurry, BB-8 the only thing standing between Finn and the stooped little man. “I don’t mean to be trespassing, but I just wanna know where she’d buried, and I was really young, but I _remember_ this place—”

 _“Adewale?”_ all the furrows in his angry face seemed to go slack at once, his rheumy eyes studying him from under his bushy silver eyebrows. “ _You’re_ little Wale? Elora’s boy?”

Finn just stared, blinking for a long moment to register that that was _his_ _name_ —his birth name, his mother’s name, finally grasping that it was all _real_ \-- before starting to nod, something about it all feeling _right_.

Elora. Elora and… and Adewale.

“ _Yes_. Yes, I go by Finn now, and my mother died here—I was taken from here 20 years ago by the First O—”

“ _Don’t_ say that name around here.” He snapped one last time before all the fight went out of him. His walking stick was back down by his side, and Finn had been so absorbed by all that was going on that he hadn’t even realized when that happened. Now, it was supporting most of his weight as he gawped at Finn, studying every inch of his face with a dawning realization. He reached out a broad hand and cupped Finn’s face, touching him like he might disappear, before feeling that he was flesh and blood beneath him.

Then, he split into a grin and laughed.

“You need drink, let’s get you out of this heat—” he tugged him along, and it was Finn’s turn to laugh.

“It’s much hotter where I’ve been living.” He promised, still breathless, beyond giddy thinking of how far he’d come. He’d never even dreamed that he could know his name.

The inside of the houses was all the same—he knew because he just _knew_. It was dim and cool, and BB-8 beeped happily as they finally cooled their circuits.

He had so many questions, he didn’t know where to start.

The man’s name was Ganymede. And Finn _did_ remember him— he had been running the settlement on this land for decades. It was a haven.

“At least, it was supposed to be.” He grumbled over cups of caf “Sometimes I like to think it is again, but who am I to say?”

Batuu was a backwater. There was no getting around it, but Ganymede said it with a gruff sort of fondness that reminded Finn of Han for a moment. He started the community there to give a place to those in need. To lay low.

“Lay low from what? What were we running from?”

Ganymede shrugged “Whatever it is—as long as it’s not a warrant, I didn’t ask. Could be a bad partner, a bad deal, or a bad planet. I kept it low profile. No last names, no homeworld details.”

Finn nodded, deflating a little. “So, you don’t know where I’m actually from?”

“M’sorry, Son. That’s my policy—Elora was a good woman, though. Brought you and the clothes on her back. She begged me to let her stay, and I took half the credits for it. She helped me look after everything in return. She might’ve been poor, but she had a good head for figures. An’ a good mother. Damn good—every second she could be, she was lookin’ out for you.” He took a trinket out of a box by his little window, and Finn could just catch a glance of the bits and pieces inside.

“What’s that?”

“It’s what’s left of the families that were murdered that day.” He rasped, his hand shaking as he held onto a braided leather strap. It looked old and worn, and Finn couldn’t take his eyes off of it.

“Was that…” he started, but he already knew the answer. He took too big a sip of piping hot caf, burning his throat and shutting himself up.

They sipped their caf in silence for a moment, grief clenching around his heart like a vice, forcing the air out of his lungs. He knew the question he needed to ask. He had to do it.

And Ganymede was waiting for him to. His eyes shone with unshed tears while he waited, eyebrows raised and a sad, wobbly shadow of an apologetic smile on his face.

“What happened that day?” He finally managed, being sure to look the old man in the eye as he asked. To face it, head on.

He sighed, clutching the leather piece in his hand, and shook his head.

“You had run off-- your mother, she was distraught when you disappeared into the town. And then the shuttle landed, and she was beside herself-- we knew by then, you see, that they were coming for the children. The children of the undesirable little worlds like Batuu, where the New Republic would take no action against the massacres.” Ganymede huffed out a scoff at the injustice “I told her to stay put-- that I’d go into town and bring you home. I caught a glimpse of you just as that First Order bitch did. I saw your terrified little face; I knew you didn’t understand. After all, who could expect you to? But you were smart-- you knew enough to run.” 

“How old was I?” Finn managed to force the words through his tight, dry throat. He wished Poe was there. His eyes were dry, but his hand felt empty. Every part of him felt empty at the distant nightmare of his childhood, and he wanted to go home-- to Poe and Kes, Rey and Yavin and Leia and Rose. Suddenly Finn was desperately homesick. 

But he couldn’t go. Not yet. He’d come this far, and he’d come for answers.

“You were 3, I remember.” his wrinkled face was wet with tears “3, and alone and exactly what the First Order was looking for. I made a break to catch up with you-- I tried to get your attention, but… but I got lost in the crowd. These old legs were knocked right out from under me and I lost you. I hit my head and everything went dark.” He was holding the delicate braided band with trembling hands, the charm at the end tinkling gently. 

He wasn’t imagining it-- Finn _knew_ that he remembered the sound. 

“Take this.” 

“She made it.” Finn breathed a sigh-- it wasn’t a question. He could feel her presence in the supple old leather like she’d only just finished weaving it. The Force sent a wave over him, as if a part of him had been waiting to come back here for all this time. It was like a puzzle piece slid into place in the cosmos and he was _supposed_ to be here. 

He harrumphed in the way old men did when they cleared their throat of emotions they didn’t want to feel, and he nodded. 

“I-I took the time to bury all the parents from that terrible day. I’ll show you which stone is hers.” 

Finn took the band and felt the warm leather and small metal clasps. The charm was small and simple-- three polished circles of iridescent stone. He wasn’t sure if he had the strength to stand, feeling wave after wave of complex memories wash over his body and flashing through his mind. Warmth hit his veins like a bacta shot, spreading through him. Like an embrace. Like love. 

Somehow, he managed to stand. His feet seemed to move underneath him without his permission or guidance, one foot in front of the other as his brain caught up with his numb, trembling body. Ganymede led him out past the low mud gates of his little home and into the brushlands beyond. 

There were three neat rows of burials. They reminded Finn of the Temples in the jungle on Yavin, all housing the dead, and so many of them with deep, blood-soaked stories. But now they were monuments to the living, helping someone to remember their past. That was where the resemblance stopped, though. The temples on Yavin had a memory embedded in each of them-- bones, photos, poems, incense and candles-- they had been homes for the living _and_ the dead. They had tree roots spilling over their broken sides, and mosses and vines growing out of their bricks. 

Each of them still had life-- they had _families_. But each of the neat, identical stones in the brush before him had no one in the galaxy. No one that knew them now, at least. All the other children who had been taken, where did they end up? 

They stopped in front of one, just as non-descript as the others. They were so clean-- well maintained and cared for. Even with no one else, and knowing nothing but their ages and their first names, Ganymede had cared for these stones in the best way he could. 

Finn didn’t have the words to express the gratitude and relief, the long-since broken pieces that knit back together in his chest. He dropped to his knees in the grass and read the carved name on the stone. The rock was warm from the sun, pressed into his hand and leaving him breathless. 

That was when his eyes finally flooded with heat and tears spilled down his cheeks. He pulled in a ragged breath, and let out a sob that shook his chest. 

A knobbled old hand clutched his shoulder and squeezed. 

“I’ll give you some time, okay? Just know-- she’d be so proud to see how you’ve fought to survive. It’s a damn miracle to see you again, all grown up into a man.” he patted his back and stood back up to let Finn have his time “She’d be damn proud.” 

And then Finn was alone. His mother’s bracelet was clutched in his trembling hand and he dared to feel _whole_.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FUCKIN FINALLY. I finally finished this chapter haha! 
> 
> Hi folks <3 happy belated May the Fourth! This is a little chapter between two characters that I feel like don't get enough acknowledgement for their similarities-- Luke and Poe. With a little surprise visit at the end! 
> 
> We're almost done with this story and onto the ROS Rewrite! At this time, there's only four chapters left, I think. I can't believe that this series is almost 5 stories strong, and I owe it all to you. Your comments and encouragement are so inspiring, and make me so happy. Even in the last, harried weeks of my semester and a whole pandemic, I feel inspired to write. That's for myself, and that's for you, and that's for anyone who finds this later. 
> 
> As always, leave a comment, or kudos, or tell your friends about this story! Hearing from you is the best! 
> 
> May the Fourth be with you!

The good news was that they had ships. 

The bad news was that there was a lot of work standing between the Resistance and a new fleet of  _ working  _ ships. 

It had been so long since he’d been  _ home _ at all— since the academy, the Republic Starfleet, then the Resistance. Poe hadn’t gotten a proper look at the ships in the barn in years, and it showed. There was rust, grime, and chewed through circuits under every canvas tarp. 

The surviving pilots had been working day in and day out to put all the X Wings and U Wings-- even the old Imperial Shuttle that Shara had  _ somehow _ gotten a hold of-- back into working order. Poe delegated where he could, feeling like he was trying to build an army out of spit and glue. 

Poe  _ lived  _ in the barn-- even long before the Resistance took up residence in the tunnels under his feet.

It had always been that way, ever since Shara’s first days bringing him out of the safety of home, showing him the garden. From the garden, she and Dad brought him out across the fields into the jungle, to the temples.

Then came the barn. Mom would lift him up to sit him on her hip, and carry him out to her treasure trove of ships and speeders. 

Out of the baking heat of the sun or giving shelter from the deluge of the monsoon, his first, half-shaped memories were of the dusty floor of their personal hangar. He smelled the engine grease and poked at all the tiny gears that made up massive machines. She used to chuckle at his curiosity as he crawled from ship to ship, engine to engine, his eyes wide and wondering. Kes used to come out to sit with him while Shara worked on the A Wing, watching carefully while he crawled, waddled, and ran between decidedly  _ not  _ baby-proofed threats. When he could make him sit still, Poe would find himself curled against his dad’s chest, his keen gaze following along while Kes handed over tools to where Shara was elbow-deep in circuits and fuses. 

Mom used to explain each piece and every action until Poe could recite every word back to her. Kes still told him stories about the way Shara had taught him. Even recently, while he had methodically taken the rusted shell of the beloved A Wing and rebuilt it over the slow weeks after coming home. Kes would take the time to come out and sit with him, handing him each tool with practiced ease while he talked. Poe listened, and smiled at the right times. He finished the sentences he’d heard a thousand times, and slipped into the comforting stories like well-worn slippers. 

He had  _ missed  _ him. His dad. Until the night of his birthday-- when they finally talked and  _ finally _ Kes  _ knew _ what had happened on that star destroyer-- Poe hadn’t felt like his home was his. Sitting with Kes in the barn while he finished the A Wing, and for the first few days while Finn was away… it felt like something snapped back into place. 

The methodical work and the age old company had sanded Poe’s edges back into someone that looked more like himself. He  _ fit  _ a little better into the landscape. 

And now the A Wing was done. It was gone, and so was Finn. 

Well, Finn wasn’t  _ gone.  _ Poe could feel him like a light in his chest, the core of him vibrating with the constant warmth of the other man’s presence while the bond kept them connected. It wasn’t like before, when Poe was on Crait and things were still so fresh.

The bond was trained now, and Leia had been right-- even with Finn systems away, Poe felt like he was standing just beside him. He felt like he could open that door and be wherever Finn’s journey had taken him—  _ Black Spire Outpost _ . 

It had been three days of radio silence, but Poe wasn’t too worried. The warm, bright feeling curled up under his heart hadn’t wavered-- he was alive. He was alive and he wasn’t hurt. Poe wasn’t going to go beat down the door to their bond when Finn was busy. 

At least, he told himself that. For those first couple days, it wasn’t too bad. Finn had checked in when he landed-- Poe had re-listened to the transmission just that morning. And the morning before that, and the morning before that.

He was handling the separation well, he liked to think. 

That day was, unsurprisingly, blisteringly hot, even with the dry season ebbing off for the time being. Poe was wiping the sweat from his brow every few minutes while he was bent over the opened innards of the old shuttle. His hair kept falling in his eyes, and he thought dimly about cutting it. It was too hot to have a mane of hair falling into his eyes-- and it was every damn time he felt like he was getting  _ somewhere  _ with these power converters. 

Blowing a sigh out, he angled his exhale up at the errant curls, and made them shift lazily. It was too humid for much else. He wished someone would come distract him. Kes was nowhere to be seen near the barn that day, tied up in some sort of fancy administrative work with Leia and Ana-- Inun’daa was barely more than a week away. Rey and Rose were off somewhere negotiating something to do with the medbay, and Poe rolled his eyes, swallowing a fresh sting of annoyance. 

Rey-- one of the only pilots they had to measure up to Poe, and a skilled mechanic-- was off negotiating  _ medical supplies _ . As if they weren’t trying to raise a kriffing army. 

Poe tried to shake off the feeling that she was avoiding him.  _ Again _ . Even after that day at the Temple. 

Poe took a deep breath and hissed it out between his teeth, long and slow, staring down at the gears and circuits beneath him. He wiped his brow again and felt the smear of engine grease on his forehead. 

There was plenty to focus on right there on the base, in the barn or the house. Poe had plenty to do besides pester Finn. He wasn’t going to be  _ that  _ partner, no matter how much Rey and Rose teased him, no matter what kind of pointed looks he got from Kes or Leia about  _ Alabanza…  _

He just missed him. It wasn’t a crime-- 

“No one’s expecting you to  _ not  _ miss him, y’know.” a voice chuckled behind him, and Poe nearly toppled down from his place on the shuttle’s wing as he whirled around to see a set of piercing blue eyes looking up at him. 

Was Luke Skywalker really that strong with the Force? That he barely had to think in order to read Poe’s thoughts?

“You were talking to yourself.” he grinned, everything about him seemingly forced to relax, trying to look as non-threatening as possible. 

Poe met the Jedi halfway, forcing his back muscles to release some of their tension and slipping down to the barn floor with his own smile, tugging his filthy hand through his hair-- he was due for a shower, anyway. He just wanted the damn stuff off his forehead. 

“It helps me think-- working on the ships does too, I guess.” he confessed, wiping his dewy face with the hem of his thin shirt while Skywalker scanned him, the ship, and the barn-- the guy took  _ Force User X-Ray Vision _ to a whole new level. “That’s always helped me focus.” 

Luke nodded. “Me too. Passes the time, keeps your hands doing something useful--”

“And it’s so satisfying. You put the puzzle together right, and you hear that engine purr.” Poe finished for him, grinning, his apprehension fading a little “All those little gears and wires, but if you do it right, you end up in the stars.” 

If it sounded a little wistful, maybe that was because it was. Poe hadn’t exactly made it a secret that he was desperate to get back in the cockpit, actually  _ do something  _ useful and take out this kriffing occupation Ana kept telling them about. 

He needed to get back in the sky, take that base on Yavin III and blow it to Hell-- he could do it, if Leia would let him-- 

“Haven’t seen one of these in a while.” the older man cut into his thoughts, whistling up at the clunky old Imperial Shuttle while Poe chewed his cheek, fighting the urge to take any ship he could and _fly--_

That old thing had been in the barn for as long as Poe could remember. Pulled out of his strategizing, it was his turn to scan over the old jedi. He carefully took in the man, feeling torn about him, like he always did.

“Yeah,” he chuckled “She’s a mess under here, but when the First Order comes knocking, we'll have to fly  _ something.” _

Luke nodded like he understood something unspoken in Poe’s tone “Nothing makes a flyboy more stir crazy than losing their wings. You had an X Wing, didn’t you?” 

“Yeah--” his voice was a little hoarse, “Lost Black One during the Ambush…” the explosion had rocked the whole ship-- it had been such an afterthought while thinking of all the lives lost in that hangar. It wasn’t until after  _ everything  _ happened that Poe even truly registered that his ship was gone. Before he had a chance to grasp all the ships and supplies and _lives_ they'd lost. L’ulo, and Kare. “Lost a lot more than that, too.” 

At least Snap and Jess were safe on Coruscant. At least  _ some  _ of his old team were still out there-- his gut twisted, and he cleared his throat against the dry tightness he found there. 

Out of everything and everyone they’d lost, Black One was  _ nothing--  _ but his legs still itched to get back in a familiar old cockpit that wasn’t there anymore, and it sent a lance through his chest to think that so much, even  _ that,  _ was gone. 

“I lost my X Wing on that Star Destroyer. After 30 years, I had to leave it behind.” Luke continued, studying Poe like he felt every pang of grief in him, watching his face closely and coming to stand beside him “I’m grounded, too.” 

“Well, you did sink that X Wing for the better part of ten years-- maybe the universe decided that you lost your privileges.” 

It was a sharp joke, one that Kes would make with vitriol, but Poe just chuckled. After being there with Finn while Luke went into his mind, there was something softening in him toward the older man. He had been so kind— it wasn’t what Poe had expected. He could only picture Ren, and the shackles he’d clamped around his wrists. Luke was different. Finn had been _safe_. 

So, he made a sharp joke, but he said it with a grin. And to his surprise, Luke grinned back.

“You’re your mother’s son, Poe.” he came to stand beside him, and Poe could feel a vague memory of Luke smiling at him like that. He’d been small, listening to some story or other. He remembered Luke a little differently than Dad. “Always looking for a way back into the fight.” 

“Somebody’s gotta do it, or we’ll sit around till the First Order kills us all.” 

“Mhm.” there was a sad smile on his weathered face when Poe looked up at the old Jedi from where he leaned on the edge of his mother's stolen Imperial ship “You’ve got nothing to prove. Not even a little.” 

He could still see Crait, hanging in space. 

He swallowed, holding Skywalker’s gaze, his left hand flexing and clenching with an ache that had nothing to do with his healed bones.

“Oh yeah, it’s a much better idea to let ‘em come for us. Maybe we should all hide out in the tunnels forever—”

“There are more ways to fight for your cause than jumping in your ship and shooting down the problem!” Luke cried back, patience wearing thin. Poe set his jaw, and got ready to fight— “How many times has my sister said that to you? I know what you’re capable of, I  _ felt  _ it. On that Star Destroyer? You shook the whole ship--”

“I did  _ one  _ thing,  _ one  _ time--”

Luke scoffed, and Poe prickled as panic started to set in-- the last thing he needed was Luke Skywalker on his ass about this-- he just wanted to forget about that kriffing star destroyer. He had done what he did out of shame. Out of desperation to save Finn _somehow_. He was trying to right his wrongs, not make some big show of powers that only came out when he was on the brink of _death_ \-- “Your bond with Finn alone is proof enough of your power! And I’ve seen your flight records-- you don’t pull maneuvers like that unless you  _ feel something--” _

“Why aren’t you putting any of this energy into your actual padawan? Master Jedi?” he snapped, shaking his wrench in the vague direction of the house, wherever the Hell Rey had gotten herself to. 

“Rey is making progress--”

“Rey is  _ hiding-- _ ” he countered “This is  _ her  _ job, not mine!”

“I am here to talk about  _ you _ .” 

“Well, maybe you should be talking to _her!”_

Silence took over. It was deafening, and as thick as the humidity hanging over the jungle outside. Poe scanned over the weathered old jedi and wondered  _ how  _ he could have ever been young. Ever been anything but grey around his temples, with his mouth pressed into a thin line. Poe had seen pictures of him, young and wild, grinning in an earlier era— back when the New Republic was a fresh idea, unblemished by how life  _ actually  _ worked. 

Luke sagged with the force of his sigh, running a hand down his face while Poe stood, jaw set and hair in his defiant eyes. He still gripped his wrench at his side. 

He was sick of the Force— he was a  _ pilot.  _ That was who he was, and what he  _ wanted  _ to be.

“You’re more than just a pilot, Poe. You’re  _ Shara Bey’s son _ , and we need all the power that you can give us.” He stepped closer, until he was gripping Poe’s shoulders, but he stepped back. 

“I’ve got a dozen engines for you, and a bunch of people ready to blow those First Order bastards straight to Hell. But that’s it.” 

"That's not enough."

Looking him in the face, daring him to pull away again, Luke pulled him back into his orbit. 

“I know what it’s like to be a farm boy from the Outer Rim. To just want to fly away, to be something bigger than yourself— but you’ve  _ always  _ been bigger than yourself. You have the whole of the Force on your side, and you always have. Your mother was… she was strong with the Force. I always had a feeling about you— when she talked about you being able to fly so young...” His gut had tied into knots that rooted him to the spot. 

Luke smiled sadly. 

“I’m so sorry I couldn’t save her.” 

Poe only shook his head, a memory coming back from the back from his mind. Luke standing at their garden gate, Kes hunched over with his shoulders shaking. The first of the monsoon rain pattered against the window, and Poe heard his father tell Luke to  _ never darken his door again.  _

“She made her choice-- a lot of people have been telling me I need to start accepting people’s choices.” He cleared his throat “It’s Dad you’ll have to apologize to. He’s the one that blames you.” 

Luke’s blue eyes clouded, going dull, and he let go of Poe. He nodded as he backed away a couple steps, scanning the ships around them. 

For a minute, Poe held his breath. He wasn’t sure if he could handle talking about his mom anymore, and Skywalker looked like he was thinking of pressing the issue. 

A hiss of breath slipped out between his teeth, relief swooping through his chest when Luke opened his mouth and changed the subject. 

“You don’t have enough ships to take on the occupation, let alone end the First Order itself.” 

The relief went cold, and Poe rolled his eyes. 

“Doing what I can with what I’ve got,  _ Master Skywalker. _ ” He griped, the truth of the statement cutting through him. It wasn’t as if he didn’t know. 

“Are you, really?” His smirk was wry, and for the first time, Poe saw a striking resemblance to Leia. It was the  _ gotcha  _ look. 

And Luke was right. At least, he thought he was. 

But Poe couldn’t. He wasn’t like Rey or Finn— he was a  _ pilot _ , and he was a damn good one. The best kriffing pilot in the galaxy. That would be enough.

It had to be. 

“You don’t have to give me an answer now, but you should know a couple things before you make up your mind.” Luke wheedled back into his thoughts, “Finn has already asked to train with me. Once he gets back from Batuu— and he’s doing it for a lot of reasons, but the thing he mentioned first was that he thought it might make you more comfortable with the idea. He believes in you. He wants you to explore your power— he  _ knows  _ how strong you could be if you trained. We all believe in you, and before this is all over, we’re gonna  _ need  _ you. Things are about to get worse. I know you can feel it— it’s in the air, tightening the strings, building the tension, but it’s all gonna snap back soon. And you’ll wish you had trained.” 

The omen settled around and within him, weighing down on Poe like 6 feet of grave dirt. He  _ had  _ felt it coming, biding it’s time for so long— it was the feeling that made him purse his lips when someone hopefully speculated about  _ when Kylo Ren was killed on the Star Destroyer _ . It was the feeling that left him staring up at the ceiling at night, thinking himself into grey hairs. It was like an electric current on the nonexistent breeze, the likes of which he hadn’t felt since Shara flew away for the last time. 

It felt him feeling jittery and hollow. He wished Finn was back. He just wanted to be able to look at him and  _ know  _ he was safe— the tangible sight of his soft white smile and his keen eyes, not _just_ the warm knowledge in his core that told him he was alright. 

The Force wasn’t  _ enough  _ for Poe. He wanted to  _ see.  _

Luke was looking right through him, arms crossed over his chest as he catalogued every tiny expression that must be flicked across Poe’s face. 

“And before I completely ruin your day—“ 

_ Too late,  _ Poe thought, swallowing bile. 

“— a couple of fresh X Wings came in today. Landed on the old Rebellion tarmac less than a quarter of an hour ago.” He grinned “Those pilots have been asking after you since they got here. I offered to come out to get you for their briefing, but you were too busy talking to yourself.” 

He had the cheek to  _ wink,  _ and Poe thought for a wild moment that it must’ve been Finn— 

“I’ve been taking so long, I’m sure I’ve gotten antsy by now—“ 

And that was when he heard the voices. Wonderful,  _ familiar  _ voices that he’d only been able to talk to over a holo in the kitchen ever since the Ambush split them apart. 

Jess stepped through the barn door first, the blinding sun outside glistening on her sweaty skin as she trudged in from the worst of the heat. Snap stumbled in on her heels, both looking haggard from the walk.

“Well, aren’t you two a  _ sight _ .” he tried to tease, calling out to them even as he jogged over, grinning too hard to be anything but genuine. 

“You’re one to talk-- lookit all those curls!” Snap boomed, immediately gripping Poe in a crushing hug, the heat be damned. His feet lifted off from the ground, gripping his friend back tightly around the shoulders while Snap ruffled his hair. 

“This kriffing planet makes D’Qar look like Hoth, Dameron!” Jess whined, the grin on her face sapping her words of any real annoyance. She punched Snap in the arm “Hey-- put him down before you break him-- I wanna hug from the grease monkey, too.” 

Poe chuckled, a little giddy, heart racing “Who’re you calling  _ grease monkey _ _?”_ he pretended to huff as his feet came back to the floor and his friend let him out of his hold. 

“The smelly commander covered in grease, that’s who.” 

She hugged him, even if he was smelly and covered in grease. The squeeze around him brought a warm sting to his eyes, a moment passing from his friends to him through the air-- the realization that they were the only ones left. 

There was no one else to reunite with. 

“So, what’re you doing here?” he cleared his throat as he reluctantly pulled away, blinking hard “Thought you were on Coruscant with the Senator--” 

“He sent us out on a mission a while back.” Snap nodded, the last of his grin sliding off his face as he gripped Poe’s shoulder. “He called it  _ reconnaissance _ , but it was a little more than that.” 

“We found Kylo Ren.” Jess cut in, straight to the point, as always. 

Poe wasn’t sure what he was expecting to hear, sagging with a sick mix of relief and dread. He scrubbed his hand down his face, prickling with Skywalker’s gaze still on his back, watching the three of them. 

“Well, I’m not surprised.” was the only thing Poe could think to say, eyes on his feet. He had already known. He had  _ felt it.  _

“It’s not just that--” Snap sighed, “It’s what he was doing that we can’t figure out. Lando told us to come here.” 

“He said  _ this is where the Force is _ \-- you guys’ll hopefully know more about it than we do.” 

“Then, let’s get started.” Luke finally cut in, closer than Poe expected him to be as he glided off toward the door. 

Poe’s heart sank in his chest. It was a slow descent, buoyed by his friends faces looking back at him-- but everything seemed so grim. The clouds were starting to gather. Kylo Ren was back, and that could only mean that the war was back on. 

People would be dying again soon. 

He cast one more glance around his mother’s personal hangar-- all the cracked open, half restored ships. His throat went a little dry, and his hand ached in the phantom spot where Hux’s boot had ground his bones into the floor. 

They were going to need all the power he could give them. And all he had were a dozen engines and a handful of lives that were willing to die to do the right thing. 

Poe wasn’t willing to let them go-- not without everything he was standing in front of them. 

He swallowed. He knew what he had to do. Luke Skywalker’s eyes glinted from the doorway, and Poe knew that he knew it, too.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello helllllloooooo Friends! I've missed you so much! 
> 
> I haven't updated in a while, but never fear-- I am BACK, I am now a COLLEGE GRADUATE, and I have nothing but time to finish this story and jump into THE ROS REWRITE THAT I'M SO EXCITED ABOUT. <3 Thank you so much to all the people who have been commenting and kudos-ing and telling their friends or whatever-- you're the best. You keep me inspired! 
> 
> This is just a little ditty from Leia's POV, digging a little bit deeper into what's on the horizon for the ROS rewrite. Please let me know what you think, as always <3

Not everyone knew her connection to Kylo Ren. Most people didn’t, and for the longest time it had made her feel as if she was pulled in all directions-- torn between duty and family. For the longest time, Leia felt like she was lying. 

But she didn’t feel conflicted anymore. Her son was dead. 

* * *

_ “We started tailing Ren about one standard month ago.” Pava reported, her face looking grim “Senator Calrissian received an anonymous tip from an old contact in the Unknown Regions, apparently Ren was alive and taking control of the First Order. So, we went out to the Outer Rim and into the Unknown Regions until we found him.”  _

_ “Why didn’t you just take him down?” Poe was first to say, and Leia couldn’t help the sigh rising in the back of her throat.  _

_ “That’s what I said!” Jess replied, nodding even while Wexley shook his head “But then we realized that he wasn’t alone. Far from it--” _

_ “And if he could do more for us alive than dead, we couldn’t take that chance.” Snap cut in.  _

_ “And he did.” Jess picked it back up, “He led us right into their new project-- on this volcanic planet called Mustafar. They’re building new Star Destroyers-- huge ones. All of them with Starkilller weapons. I know it sounds crazy, but we looked right at them.”  _

_ Silence hung over the Dameron’s kitchen. Luke was resting a reassuring hand on Rey’s shoulder-- she looked pale and stony, guilt hanging on her frame that was quickly deteriorating into something else. Something  _ worse _. Leia bookmarked the thought as her gaze swept over them all.  _

_ Poe was tapping his foot against the floor while he leaned against the nearby counter. He had engine grease in his hair, on his forehead and his shirt. It was high time for Finn to come home-- the pilot was thinking so hard, Leia could practically smell the gears burning in his brain. He chewed his lip, only breaking out of his haze when Kes set a glass of water next to his hand.  _

_ “That’s not the worst of it, though.” Snap finally sighed, breaking the hush.  _

_ “Kriff-- do we even wanna know?” Poe grumbled back.  _

_ “He’s got a team.” the captain smiled ruefully at his commander, ignoring his snark “While Jess stayed to spy on the Engineering Corp and these new monster-ships, I followed Ren’s TIE fighter.”  _

_ That surprised even Leia, a cold pit of dread shaping up in her gut where her Force connection to Ben used to be.  _

_ “Ren didn’t stay with the Fleet?” she blurted out before she had the time to think about it.  _

_ Wexley and Pava both shook their heads. “Ren didn’t stay long-- maybe a couple standard days-- before he was off again. He went deeper into the Unknown Regions than I’ve ever been, didn’t think I’d be able to find my way out. The planets I came across were either barely populated enough to give me any real information or they didn’t speak Basic, but what I got was this. Kylo Ren has some elite group of Sith wannabes out there-- apparently they’ve ripped a couple villages apart in a few places, but they never really leave the Unknown Regions. They call themselves The Knights of Ren.” _

_ “But who are they attacking?” Luke frowned “They sound like they’re looking for something.”  _

_ Snap could only shrug. “The planets that they went after didn’t seem to have anything in common. It looks like they’re just terrorizing these places because they can, in the name of Ren and the First Order.”  _

_ “No,” Leia surprised herself by saying, right in time with her brother skeptically shaking his head “this could be more calculated than it looks. It’s worth bearing in mind. How many people were killed in these attacks?”  _

_ “Depends on where they were. Sometimes they’d burn the whole place to the ground and kill every living thing in sight. Sometimes they’d only take out two or three people-- a Togruta, a twi’lek, a couple humans here and there. They’re pretty sparsely populated, anyway.”  _

_ Leia pursed her lips and tried to sway the mixed up cocktail of miserable anxiety swirling in her veins. It didn’t feel right. Something in the Force was very wrong-- for the first time in a long time, it was too strong for her to forget her training. All it took was a glance over at Luke to know that he felt it, too.  _

_ “Thank you for your bravery-- I’ll need a full debrief from the both of you before dinner, but you’re all dismissed for now.” she finally said, willing herself into a calm, steady tone as the group dispersed.  _

* * *

Landing times on Yavin IV were a delicate procedure, counted down to the second. There were only so many shift changes in a day, when they knew the base on their neighboring moon would be less defended. When they would have a moment of distraction to conduct real business— even while living under a microscope. 

This time, it was in the dead of night. Leia didn’t dare breathe as the old A Wing came in for a landing, as if the First Order could sense the lot of them just by the pounding of her heart. The long grasses of Dameron Fields rippled like waves, blown back from the red hot engines as Finn set the ship down. 

_ Poe’s taught him well,  _ she smiled to herself, admiring the graceful landing. But, she wasn’t surprised— Finn had always been a fast learner. A little curl of fresh hope flickered in her chest as he came bounding down to greet the small crowd that gathered for him. 

He didn’t look injured— not a smudge on his skin or a tear in his clothes. No blood, no soot. He grinned when Rey slammed into him, wrapping her arms around him. Poe inspected his droid while Rose took her turn— scanning Finn over the same way Leia was— but he looked up from the (undoubtedly) rapidly beeping astromech when the other man came striding up. 

Finn wasn’t injured, but he was _different_. Something was changed. There was a new sense of  _ understanding  _ and  _ contentment  _ in his energy that Leia could feel all the way back where she stood in the garden of the house. He stood with more ease, with the confidence of a man on a mission rather than an ex-soldier fighting for redemption. 

Leia let her smile beam for him— all that pain and the risk of travel had been worth it. It was some type of success, it must’ve been. And Poe felt it too, because his own grin was dazzling— he was so  _ proud. _ It lit the air around them as he stood up and they took each other in. 

Both of them were a little shaggy. Poe’s curls had been falling in his eyes for weeks, and Finn’s were starting to separate out into distinct locks of tight black curls. Poe was getting a little skinny again, despite Leia’s warnings and Kes’s watchful eye, and Finn’s boots looked like they’d been through the ringer. He was in desperate need of a bath— weren’t they all?— but his grin when he tugged his pilot into his embrace made everything feel a little more  _ possible _ . 

Knowing who you are brings its own unique form of hope. A type that nothing else could— a launchpad to grow from, and roots to grow from. 

Leia reached deep inside herself, feeling the strands of Force energy that tethered them all to the galaxy. Everyone's strings were tangled up down by the A Wing, holding tight to each other, knotted like mountain climbers who couldn’t let the others go. 

Leia remembered holding people like that. War was what did that to you. 

“They should be putting the ship away and going underground.” 

She wasn’t surprised when Luke spoke up beside her, coming to stand at the gate. She always felt his presence long before he had the chance to make her jump— even if he had tried, once upon a time. 

Her smile didn’t dampen as she turned to him, rolling her eyes “When did you become such a grouch?” She teased, “Let them have their moment. You only get so many of them.” 

“Don’t we know it.” 

For a long moment they stood shoulder to shoulder in silence. The Force Tree swayed, glowing faintly in the light of the moons. Leia felt the waves of bitter grief cresting over her brother, and sent her own energy nudging into their bond. 

He sighed and took her hand, squeezing it as they looked out across the field to the reunion by the barn. 

The bitterness that started to cloud the joy of the warm night evened out, dissipating as they stood together. Both of them simply breathed into the Force, remembering when that was them—when  _ they  _ were the kids coming home, congratulating each other on missions and battles well fought. Cherishing another day to have together. 

She could swear she saw the tree glow brighter in her periphery. On her next breath, she took a deep inhale of _Han_ — cinnamon and wine, pipe smoke and engine grease, laundry soap and blaster fire. It was as if he was standing right by her side, like he had been for so long, in another life. 

Back when  _ they _ were kids. 

Luke smelled it, too. She could feel him through the link between them— linking them all to the Force— and for the first time since she stopped her Jedi training, Leia felt them  _ all.  _ All the friends that had been sacrificed through the Rebellion, all the lives lost since the First Order started its rise. There was so much weighing on them, but suddenly, it was as if something lifted. The ghost of their dearest friend hovered the air between them, and the glow of the tree grew brighter. 

She felt the comforting weight of Han’s arm slung around her shoulder, and could almost convince herself of Shara’s laugh cutting through the darkness. She felt Obi Wan, her father and all the people she'd left behind on Alderaan, even the soothing memory of her  _ mother.  _

Leia let herself bask in the warmth of the presences reverberating through the Force. She gripped Luke’s hand tighter. 

Of all the people and memories that flowed back to her, and all the bittersweet emotion that swelled up in her chest, one glaring omission remained. 

Her son was gone. Their bond in the Force was cut, cauterized like a wound sliced through with a lightsaber. Biting her lip, Leia thought hard about what Captain Wexley had said.

What was Kylo Ren doing? Whatever it was, Leia steeled herself against the pain, and finally acknowledged what she knew she’d have to do. For all of them. 


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! This is later than I wanted it to be, but it's here now! And it's fun and cute-- nothing hard-hitting or serious, just happy, horny boys in love! We love to see it. 
> 
> I've already started the next chapter, it's a continuation of the Inund'aa celebration, so you'll get to see more of it, don't worry. And then we have like, one more chapter!!! WOOO! <3 
> 
> If you like it, let me know <3 I love hearing from you folks.

“So… so, what’s this party for, exactly?” 

Finn loaded the last of the crates into the barn, trying not to stare too blatantly at the heaping piles of produce, wildflowers, and reams of rich blue fabric spilling out of them. It had been so long since they all had anything but rations, and the overflowing quantities of actual fresh foods looked too good to be true. It must have been a whole year’s harvest right there in the barn, saved up for this festival. The flowers were varied and tangled between each other-- some were delicate and tiny, linked into long, winding chains of blue, yellow and green while others were nearly the size of his face in brilliant oranges and reds. They looked like water and fire, or like the huge expanse of the sun flanked by the smattering of moons and stars in the sky at night. 

The concept of the festival was a little beyond him, still. He had missed more than he knew when he left for his trip. Nearly a week passed on Yavin before he was home again, and all of a sudden, there was some big festival going on.

Qui’ana chuckled at his question. He must’ve asked it three or four times already.

“It’s about the tunnels, right?” Rey cut in, dropping her own crate. She didn’t look at them as she asked, instead peering curiously into the box and gently lifting out one of the slippery-soft blue garments. “Kes mentioned something about honoring your ancestors through caring for the tunnels.”

“He’s right, but it’s a little more specific.” Ana grinned, each of them taking one of the last three baskets of supplies off of her speeder and heading back off toward the house. “Generations ago, our ancestors still lived in the temples in the jungle. But all that changed when the Sith reclaimed the Great Temple and started their attack.” 

“ _Re_ claimed?” Finn asked.

“Legend says that the Great Temple was built on the command of a Sith Lord, back in the days before the Old Republic. That was when the native warriors of Yavin were wiped out— and in the times of the first genocide, we looked like we would be wiped out, too. But the Sith didn’t have a hold on us like they did the Massassi all those years ago. They hadn’t broken us yet, and we needed someplace to hide. So we went underground to regroup. Our ancestors dug down underneath their homes and other hiding places, and constructed complex tunnel systems— including the ones you work and sleep in. They all extend deep under the temples in the jungle.” 

Finn only nodded while Rey continued to pry deeper into the story. “And now you maintain the tunnels as a monument to them?” 

“Yes-- a monument to remember their suffering, and to remember where we came from.” 

“That’s so beautiful. You have such a history here.” Rey replied. Her eyes glimmered with that old curiosity, and her grin was only barely shadowed by her usual pain. She looked almost like _herself_ again, nudging him with her shoulder and smiling. It made a tangle of emotions clench in Finn’s gut as he grinned back, wondering when he’d see her smile again after all this. 

He had missed his friend since long before he left and returned. 

“The tunnels do have practical purpose as well, though.” Ana continued, nudging the garden gate open with a practiced swing of her hip, as if she’d done it a hundred times. “We needed them again in the second genocide-- this time by the Galactic Empire. And we are needing them again now, to provide you with shelter and aid.” 

Finn was the one who managed to get the door into the house, shifting his own basket of supplies and nearly toppling it in his haste to get in from the heat. 

“How’re we gonna be able to do this with the occupation, though? Won’t the troopers ask questions?” he asked.

The house was empty and silent-- no doubt the calm before the storm. Every available surface was overflowing with festival supplies, just like the barn and the baskets in their arms. It smelled like warm earth and fresh flowers, and there were deep blue fabrics draped across everything from the chairs in the kitchen to the rafter beams above them. 

“With the First Order troopers right in town, too many questions would be asked if there wasn’t some cultural explanation for all of us to be here-- but we can claim Inund’aa is the reason, even if we're also using the time to smuggle you ship parts and blasters. Besides, the Troopers think that we don’t speak Basic-- we made sure of that weeks ago-- and in the chaos of the festival, they won’t know a single thing. Just let us do the talking if they show up.” 

He didn’t like the thought of that, but there was no time to think of what to say, not when Rey was already a parsec ahead of all of them. 

“Are we all going to be wearing these?” 

Ana nodded “It’s tradition-- and it’ll hide you in plain sight.” 

“The color is so beautiful.” she grinned, running her hands along one of the fine blue ribbons hanging down from the ceiling-- it _was_ beautiful. It looked like a waterfall pouring down over the room. “Why is everything blue for Inund’aa?” 

“Blue is the sacred color of all our festivals and celebrations. Water dictates so much of our lives-- it brought the jungle back from the brink of destruction, it created our home. The Force itself flows in the rivers of Yavin, it's the soul of the planet. For Inund’aa, it symbolizes bringing life back up from underground and into the sunlight.” Qui’ana was also running her hand through the streamers of fabric hanging above them, and her smile was more carefree and gentle than Finn had ever seen in the short time he knew her. She was usually a little rougher, her spine laced with the type of steel that only comes from guiding people through the most painful moments of life. 

He liked her. Her energy was calm and steady, and he liked to listen to her talk. 

“The blue is also a warning.” 

Or maybe not-- why did everything in this kriffing war seem to have a flipside? 

“Inund’aa means _The Flood_ in Yavinic. Between the monsoon season and the cave ponds, the tunnels run the risk of flooding or collapsing without regular maintenance. It would be incredibly dangerous for you all to have your base down there in the wet season without the necessary precautions-- when we go into the tunnels all dressed in blue it’s a reminder of what will happen if we don't take care of what our ancestors built.” 

“So we’re sleeping in a centuries-old tunnel that could _collapse_ or _flood_ with bad weather?” Finn blurted out, the familiar prickle of anxiety rising like a wave in his gut and threatening to overwhelm him-- 

“ _Relax_ , Buddy-- we’ve been doing this for forever, and we’ve got it down to a science. Nothing’s gonna flood.” a familiar voice chuckled, and the three of them turned to see Poe bounding down the stairs.

On the upside, Finn’s anxiety faded into nothing when he caught sight of the other man. But his heart still pounded, the air punched out of him and left him a sputtering, wide eyed mess. 

So _that_ was what the Inund’aa traditional costume looked like. 

Technically, it was just a pair of pants. _Just_ a pair of pants. Poe stood as shamelessly as ever, bare chested and delicately draped with the familiar blue of the airy material around his bottom half. It was loose around his thighs, just barely showing the muscle underneath, but secured tightly around his calves and slung low around his hips. There were complex knots running up the sides of the pant legs that somehow managed to look elegant and effortless, giving just the littlest hints of skin in the gaps between the intricate crochet.

It had only been hours since Finn last saw him, but his throat was as dry as the Dune Sea as his gaze roved over the bronze expanse of his chest-- the spot on his collarbone that Finn had only just put his lips to that morning, and the light dusting of dark hair across his pecs and down over the soft, lean muscle of his stomach until it was obscured by blue. The dips of those hips could fit Finn’s thumbs just perfectly-- he knew. He knew because it made Poe shiver every time. It made him hold him tighter and kiss him deeper. In the dips of those hips the blue looked especially soft and touchable, clinging to his tanned skin. The deep blue fabric caught the light differently when draped over strong legs, reflecting iridescent threads and subtle patterns as the early morning sunlight spilled in the kitchen window and drenched them all in golden light. 

He was grinning that grin that said he knew _exactly_ what he was doing, brown eyes sparkling with a laugh. There was a lacework of gold body paint on his face, thick bands on his neck and arms, and Finn was only realizing it now, internally shaking himself against the flush in his cheeks and pounding blood in his veins. 

He looked _beautiful_.

“Is that what all of us are wearing?” he cleared his throat and managed to croak, trying and failing to sound or look like any type of normal person, not consumed with lust and awe at the _art_ in front of him. 

“Not if you come take it off me.” Poe didn’t miss a beat, wiggling his eyebrows. Qui’ana snorted a laugh, and Finn could practically feel Rey’s eye roll from the other side of the space. 

That was when Kes came down the stairs behind his son and smacked him up the back of his curly head, even as he bit the inside of his cheek against his own laugh.

“Cool off, Boys-- we’ve still got a hundred things to do before everyone gets here.” he grumbled. 

He was dressed too, all the same as Poe except for the markings on his arms and face. Those were different, but before he could ask why, he caught a glimpse of Qui’ana. 

Qui’ana was watching _Kes_. Her brown eyes had melted into a gooey, tender look, and her body seemed to resist a magnetic pull to be close to him as he walked— completely oblivious— through to the kitchen. He looked through the last three baskets they had brought, muttering to himself about the day ahead. 

And Ana just _watched_ for a second more before shaking herself out of it and jumping back into reality. It must’ve been how Finn looked just seconds ago, but there was something different about it. When he caught her looking, Finn felt almost like he was intruding. Like it was something secret. 

“Poe, you show Rey and Finn how to tie their _delantals_ and get them painted. Then the three of you go out to the barn and help the others.” 

“Yup—" Poe was nodding like he’d already heard it a hundred times, reaching out for Finn’s hand to lead them off upstairs. 

“And Poe— no funny business.” Kes’s voice brooked no argument, but his wink sent a flustered blush up Finn’s cheeks. 

“And what am I doing? Chaperoning?” Rey joked, shaking her head “No way— I’m getting Rose first.” 

As she headed off toward the medbay, Finn relished Poe’s laugh, taking his hand properly and studying the paint lacing up his fingers. Poe and Rey joked so rarely now— things were too tense. Poe was too busy waiting for Rey to take him up on his offer to talk, getting more irritated as she got more distant. Again. 

Every once in a while, though, things felt more normal. They felt more like friends again. 

Finn could get used to festivals— and not just for the clothes. They seemed to take everyone out of their heads-- out of the war-- for a moment. It was about time they all had a second to breathe. 

“C’mon— she’ll meet us up there.” Poe winked, smiling wickedly as he tugged him off toward privacy, leaving Ana and Kes to their own devices. 

“Ana, could you help Leia and Kal? They’re in the tunnel, bringing up the medical supplies and rations from storage so we can get into the tunnels down there.” He heard, echoing up the stairs as Poe led him to the landing. 

“Oh, I get to be ordered around, too?” Ana’s voice shot back. Finn could practically hear her grin as Kes chuckled. 

“Oh no— _you_ get respectfully asked. You’ve done more than enough for our sorry asses…” 

That was the last of it he could make out before they were too far down the hallway to parse the words. He thought about asking Poe what he thought of Ana’s obvious crush, but he only managed to get distracted as he looked over to see the other man.

Their palms were hot, pressed against each other, and now he could see more of the gold paint close up. There were detailed swirls and pin prick dots, all tied together into a sunburst of metallic art along the side of his face. Along his left temple and down to his jaw, curved up onto his ear and up into his hairline— the glimmer of the paint set off the flecks of honey and brandy in his eyes, and Finn buried his free hand in the long brown curls. 

Poe backed up to rest his back up against the wall of the corridor, pulling Finn flush with a hand on his waist as he continued to card his fingers through his hair. 

“You look _so_ beautiful.” He whispered it, extricating his hand from Poe’s and curling it instead around his favorite spot. The jut of his bare hip was finally back under his hand, his thumb fitting right into the groove of muscle there, just like he knew it would. 

Poe beamed back at him, leaning into Finn’s touch with dreamily closed eyes. “I love festivals.” 

“I love festival _costumes_ , that’s for sure.” 

He kissed him then, just at the corner of his mouth. It was soft and sweet, and Finn ached to do it properly. But the way Poe sighed against him made the wait worth it. So he kissed across his jaw and up along his cheekbone, the hand tangled in his curls keeping him in place against the wall as Poe got more and more impatient. He smelled like hot summer earth and morning dew, an undertone of cinnamon and caf clinging to his skin. It settled in Finn’s chest right where their bond tethered them together. 

He had missed him _so_ much. He had missed the home he made pressed against Poe's chest, feeling his heartbeat against his own. With his lips tasting Poe’s skin and his thumb in the dip of his hip-- he couldn’t get close enough now, after the long days and nights without him. 

Reluctantly, he pulled back just enough to take him in. He was doing that impatient wiggle of his hips against him, and his eyes were hooded and warm, watching Finn through his dark lashes. He had bitten his bottom lip raw, and it stuck out, puffy and red. 

Finn couldn’t resist it.

Finally, he leaned in and closed the gap between them, taking that lip between his and sucking gently as Poe deflated with a sigh, melting into a puddle between Finn and the wall, trembling just the littlest bit as he wrapped his arms around his shoulders to hold himself up. He gave himself entirely to the kiss, opening his mouth letting Finn take charge, slipping his tongue past his lips and into his mouth. Poe was nearly purring, the bond humming as Finn let his thumb slip down in its place, hooking into the rich blue fabric just to tease. It was just as soft and slippery and cool as it looked, like Poe was truly only clothed in water--

“I can’t imagine that _this_ is what you’re _supposed_ to be doing right now.”

He nearly jumped out of his skin, his lips pulling away and head whipping around to see Luke’s wry smirk and raised eyebrow. Poe let out a disappointed whine, completely unabashed, and let his head thud against the wall before he turned his head to look at her. Finn wanted to roll his eyes at the scene, but he agreed with his pilot too much to poke fun. 

“Either get a room or get a job-- it’s a big day, isn’t it?” he winked at them as she slipped by them where they were still rooted to the spot in their embrace against the wall. On her way down the stairs, he called over his shoulder “Oh-- and Blessed Inund’aa, Commander. _Alabanza_ to you and your people.” 

Poe mumbled some sort of begrudging thanks, still peeved at the interruption. 

But Finn was hit with a familiar word that resonated like a plucked string in his mind. _Alabanza._ Poe had said that before he left-- that morning in the jungle after his birthday, and just as he was boarding the A Wing. He told him he’d tell him what it meant when he came back. 

He was back now, and he wanted to know. 

Poe had said it like a prayer-- like _Alabanza_ was the most pure thing a person could be. Finn wanted to know, he wanted to... 

As if he could tell what Finn was thinking, Poe unwound his arms from their place on his shoulders and started to put himself back together-- his hair was mussed, his lips red and slick, his chest flushed. He cleared his throat and tried to smile at him as if everything was normal, even though they both felt the weight of the proverbial Gundark in the room. 

“Poe--” 

“Skywalker said we just missed the show, Boys.” 

“Yeah, hope we’re not interrupting anything.” Rose and Rey giggled, bounding up the steps and popping the bubble of tension. Poe laughed, grinning that grin that he only ever used as a mask. 

“Any trouble we got up to was not our fault-- we were left without our chaperone.” he teased, scandal in his voice. Finn forced himself to laugh along with the group as Poe led them down the hallway to teach them how to apply their own paint and tie up those _delantals_ , or whatever Kes had called them. 

They could talk about it later. It was a festival-- they had enough to do today.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all. Y'ALL. 
> 
> I'm so sorry this took so long. Honestly, writing has been super difficult lately. It's involved a lot of second-guessing and self-imposed stress. I've been very self-conscious about my abilities, and I've felt very conflicted about writing at all, considering the current disaster that is my failed state of a country. 
> 
> If you have the time and the spare cash, please donate to a bail fund, or the Black Lives Matter movement-- do SOMETHING, because people are dying and Tr*mp is actively targeting the first amendment rights of the american people. 
> 
> Okay. That being said-- this chapter was hard to write, and if you like it, PLEASE let me know. It's not sad, it's not hard to read, but getting the energy to write beyond the overwhelming rage and grief made this difficult. 
> 
> I love you, wonderful readers. Protect yourselves, protect each other, and dig as deep as you have to to find the kindness in your heart right now. It'll keep you sane. <3

“So, Inund’aa is just the community fixing up the tunnels?” Rose asked “That’s what people do?” 

“Yeah, pretty much.” Poe was bouncing on his toes, excitement whizzing through him like he was 7 again-- he had missed festivals, “People fix up the tunnels, have a massive feast, and get incredibly drunk.” 

That was it, that was pretty much the itinerary for the day. Poe grinned, his friends all slipping into their costumes and waiting for his help with the complex ribbons up the sides. 

“It’s a little confusing at first, but once you get a rhythm going, it all kinda falls into place.” 

Poe was knelt down between Rey and Rose, watching closely and guiding their hands when necessary through the repetitive motions of up, over, and through as they braided the ties on their delantals. The familiar push and pull of the thin, lighter blue ribbon of the ties tugged his lips up into a smile-- some things didn’t change. Tying delantals was one of them. 

“Like this?” Rose asked, nearly done with the first leg. 

He grinned at her neat column of intricate knots, nodding, “Yeah, you’re doing great. Rey--” he turned to his other friend, barely suppressing a chuckle at the way her tongue poked out through her teeth from the intensity of her focus, “-- stop thinking so hard. It’s supposed to be like water-- let it flow.” 

“Or maybe it’s just easy for you, because you’ve been doing it since you were old enough to hold your hands steady.” she fired back. 

“Just take a deep breath.” Finn cut in from his spot by the door, “You won’t get anywhere if you don’t relax.” 

It made Poe’s fingers itch to just tie them all up himself— he was never too good at handing over the controls. Rey’s fingers were clumsy for a few more strokes, before she took a deep breath and centered herself, just like Finn had said. Poe smiled. There were flecks of golden threads woven through the ribbons that caught the light shining into his old bedroom, and they flickered through the fabric as his friend weaved up the sides of the pant leg. 

“Got it?” 

She hummed wordlessly in reply, repeating the motion over and over until she reached the hem of the pant leg. She could practically feel Poe’s fond eye roll, and heard Finn’s soft chuckle. 

As satisfied as he’d ever be with it, Poe let himself turn around when he felt a tug in the bond. 

His Lieutenant was leaned against his old dresser, his arms loosely crossed over his chest like he was forgetting to be self conscious. 

Seeing Finn in his culture’s clothes set something wild and giddy loose in his gut. It reverberated out through every part of him, and Poe grinned. He couldn’t help it. 

The blue and gold threads of the delantals draped over his legs. They were a little big— they had to sit a little higher on his hips than Poe’s did, or they might slip down— but they hugged into his strong waist like a second skin. The gold flecks in the fabric’s patterns made him look like he was glowing, and the light of the early morning sun enhanced his skin to an even richer, deep brown. 

When Finn fixed him with a raised eyebrow for his staring, Poe only winked. It wasn’t any wonder to him why Finn had pressed him into the wall, had kissed him breathless. If he looked even half as good as Finn did, Poe must’ve been irresistible. 

“What’re  _ you  _ looking at?” He teased, his smile dazzling in the sun. 

Poe shrugged with squinted eyes and false seriousness, taking a couple steps closer and studying Finn. “You’re missing something.” He said, “Gimme a spin— I can’t tell what it is yet.” 

He was having trouble maintaining his mask, lips wobbling up into a half a grin before he could stop it. Finn only rolled his eyes fondly before he complied. 

He knew what Poe was doing. 

With an exaggerated, put upon sigh, Finn gave him a slow turn. He flicked his gaze back to him over his shoulder, teasing Poe with his dark, curled lashes and a silly smirk. 

“You two are sickeningly sweet, honestly.” Rey was giggling, Rose joining in. Poe ignored them.

Finn uncrossed his arms, holding them out and then dropping them unceremoniously to his sides as he finished turning. He looked at Poe expectantly, lips pursed and eyes twinkling with a laugh. 

His mother’s ring rested against Finn’s bare chest, in full view and glinting in the sun now that his arms were out of the way. Poe’s smile slipped for a split second, his eyes going soft at the sight of it. He wasn’t upset, though— far from it. It was so immediately humbling, it sent a swooping rush of pride through him to think that  _ everyone he knew would be able to see it now.  _ It would rest right there against Finn’s skin, next to his heart, and people would know that it was from Poe. 

People would see it and know exactly what it meant.

There was another nudge in the bond, energy reaching out and cradling his heart in his chest— Finn’s expression had slid into something a little more like concern, and Poe slapped his grin right back into place. 

“You alright?” 

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Yeah, I’m just... Blue suits you.” 

_ But not as much as gold, _ he thought. 

Finn just smiled, eyes softening. The leftover awkwardness still hung in the air from his silence, and he jumped back into his role. 

“Hmmm, I think I know what you’re missing.” He said after a wink and a long moment of just dragging his eyes over his lover’s body— the smooth planes of muscle, and play of the sun on him, the way his longer curls were starting to fall over his forehead—

“Yeah? Then, what is it?” Rose teased from behind them. 

“It’s the bands.” 

“What?” Rey and Finn said simultaneously. 

Poe just gestured pointedly to his left bicep, where his own gold bands of paint were dried into his skin. 

“Oh those.” 

“What do they mean?” Rey started. 

“What does  _ all  _ the paint mean?” Finn continued, “Yours and Kes’s are different.” 

In Yavinic culture, gold body paints were used for every ceremony and festival. They told the world who you were, who you were with, and different things for each celebration. It was important and occasionally… deeply personal. 

They were all gold and sometimes red, symbolizing Yavin Prime. They meant different things, though— Inund’aa had swirls and sun bursts that covered the left side. The shape of the design was the same for all of them, but the designs that made up that shape? They could be anything, as long as they symbolized those the person wanted to remember. Maybe it was a grandparent or a parent, a brother or a sister. Maybe they were lost in the tunnels during the genocides, or maybe not.

Maybe it was your mom. Or your wife. It could be anyone that you wanted to remember, not even a blood relation. 

“And yours is for your mom?” Rey nodded as he explained. 

“Yup.” He popped the p, trying to diffuse a little of the sadness that rose up in him. “I also put in symbols for Lulo and Kare, though. There really aren’t any rules to it— the bands, though, have rules.” 

They were practically a part of his skin after years and years of applying it, same spot every time. 

It told the rest of the community your relationship status, but there were only three possibilities— single, married, and widowed. Single people had one, solid band of gold around their arm. Married meant that there were two, braided lines, but widowed? Widowed was a braided line, but unlike the continuous circles of the single and married bands, the paint was on an angle. It showed the unfinished ends of the circle, signaling the end of that earthly bond—

“But what about your dad?” Rey asked again, always curious “He doesn’t use the widowed band. His is still married…” 

Poe’s heart clenched and he smiled ruefully. He had had that fight with his dad a thousand times, but it never got through. It hurt him too much to see the kicked, broken look in Kes’s eyes— to admit that there was a difference between Shara in life and Shara in death. 

It wasn’t like he was delusional. He didn’t think Mom was truly still alive, or something— but to take on the widowed band meant that he was open to potential new relationships… and Kes wasn’t. 

“Yeah. He doesn’t like to talk about it, though.” 

_ And I don’t like to talk about it either _ , he didn’t say, but it still ended the conversation pretty quickly. Poe got out the strips of leather and the pot of paint on the dresser, and did his best to shake off the moment, even with his friends’ eyes boring into him, and Finn’s gentle presence lighting up the bond. 

He started with Rose. Then Rey. Both of them got their single, solid bands and he gave them each their own pot of pigment— for their faces. For whoever they wanted to honor. 

And it just left him and Finn. Poe’s band was suddenly itching, the single band that he’d always used suddenly not feeling right against his skin. He reached for the solid, unbraided strip of leather where it stuck out of the paint, but Finn’s fingers wrapped around his wrist to stop him. 

“There isn’t a band for anything between single and married?” His voice was quiet, hesitant. 

Poe suppressed his grin, warmth flooding his veins. 

“Don’t want anyone thinking I’m not spoken for?” He teased half heartedly, as if he hadn’t thought about just picking up the braided band for himself when he was getting ready earlier. Just for the hell of it.

“Honestly, yeah.” 

His gaze was steady on his face, an earnest smile tilting his lips that made Poe want to kiss him and  _ kiss  _ him. Like before, with his back against the wall and his knee between his thighs. He wanted to get as close as he could to him—

“Weddings in Yavin happen so quick after engagements that we’ve never bothered doing bands for relationships and stuff.” He shrugged “Trust me, everyone’s gonna know when they see this.” 

He broke into a grin, resting his hand over Finn’s heart where he would have his mother’s ring under his palm. He just wanted to feel the heat of the other man’s skin and Finn knew it, smiling back, holding his hand in place for a long moment before he let him go to wrap the paint covered strip around his bicep. 

The gold looked different on everyone. For Rey and Rose, it looked almost orange as it caught the sunlight against their pale skin. Poe’s complexion blended near perfectly into the paint, only glimmering noticeably in certain lights— but Finn was something else all together. It shone in the sun, but it seemed to make the rest of him glow a little more as well. It contrasted his dark skin like filigree in the old Massassi armor, and Poe couldn’t help but think  _ Alabanza  _ as he watched it dry. 

Gold suited him. 

* * *

They hauled out new sections of dirt, packed in the fresh mud and caked it into every crack in the tunnel walls, no matter how small. All on a miles-long assembly line, Yavinites and Resistance fighters passed metal beams and wood panels down into the ground, replacing and repairing the skeleton of their grandparents' tunnels.

There were even parts of the tunnels that he had forgotten existed, digging deep under the jungle and out to the Great Temple itself. Tiny offshoots led into darkness, like alleyways or side streets, and sometimes they opened up to huge subterranean halls large enough to fit a squadron of X Wings. 

They were beautiful, in their own way. They were cooler and drier than the relentless heat pounding down on the upper world. It had only gotten hotter, even after Poe’s birthday. Kes had called it the “peak” of the dry season, but the last half was easily worse than the first. 

Finn and Rey would take the Dune Seas of Jakku over the suffocating humidity of Dameron Fields right about then. Poe chuckled and rolled his eyes as if the crush of the heat wasn’t getting to him, too— everyone was glad to be underground. 

Kes said that he could taste the rain coming in on the (nonexistent) breeze, that the monsoon would come early and come hard. Poe used to raise his eyebrow at things like that, but Dad had never been wrong. Not yet, at least. 

If he dared to acknowledge them, Poe could feel the strings of the Force in the core of him. Beyond Finn on the other side of the hall, it extended into every tiny thing. The strings were tuning themselves, recalibrating under the weight of the land’s need for water. All things on Yavin were crying out, stretching up to the sky for any type of relief. 

The dried paint on his face, neck and arm remained pristine through the hours of grueling work. Somehow, through the blazing heat all around them and the sweat drying on his skin, Poe still managed to be comfortably cool, wearing his airy costume. When the others had first seen Poe bound down the stairs, he had felt their confusion. Rey, and even Finn (once his neurons started firing again) didn’t seem to buy it-- he looked more like he was going to a feast, or the beach in such light, beautiful fabric. Poe knew it, Inund’aa’s costume was more… delicate? But they understood once the work started— the delantals were like a second skin, but less restrictive. Once they were taking up yet another bucket of water from the cave pond to the barn tunnel entrance, the clothes made more sense. 

Inund’aa was tiring, but part of him wished that he could live in this day forever. Through the summer heat and the coating of sweat and dusty earth covering them all, the Yavinites  _ and  _ his Resistance family were smiling, laughing,  _ singing _ . 

It was almost like there was no war at all, just for that day. 

Inund’aa was exhausting. But the steady rhythm of the shovels and the scrape of mud pressed into the cracks felt refreshing. It was healing-- like every crack wasn’t just in the tunnels, but in themselves. 

It was the longest and hardest he’d worked since basic training with the Republic Starfleet— his first Inund’aa at home in years. Finally, he felt as if he was back to good use, the phantom pain of his healed hand and the sting of the memories on the Star destroyer feeling like a thing of the past. 

Any other day, it might’ve been enough to bring a tear to his eye, to be back to serving the Resistance instead of feeling that constant nag of failure. 

But with Finn finally back, Rey laughing and singing along to what his dad taught her, Rose and Snap and Jess—  _ everyone  _ accounted for… Poe felt  _ home _ again. 

* * *

The blistering day wore on until sunset. 

Sunsets on Yavin were unlike anything else in the galaxy— Yavin Prime was a massive red giant, and as it sank below the horizon, it painted the sky in orange, red, and pink. The whole of the sky above it turned violet with the mix of the light, illuminated by IV’s neighboring moons for hours before the sky went properly dark.

Even the night was bright with moonlight and swirls of stars. Better than that, though, was the way the steamy heat of the day combined with the coolness of the night to blanket the fields with a mist of aromatic fog. From his view at the garden gate, he could see the silver sea of warm vapor covering the grasses. It lapped at the last of the celebrating Yavinic crowds and costumed Resistance fighters, dancing clumsily in the fields and laughing at their own sloppiness. Blowing off the steam of a hard day’s work with the last of the moonshine the Yavinites had brought. 

It was nice to hear laughter again in the Resistance camp. He hadn’t heard that since D’Qar. 

“You gonna finish this bottle with us, Dameron? Or are we toasting Lulo and Kare alone?” A voice called out from the kitchen door, and he grinned as he turned to see Snap shaking an ominously glowing bottle of Likstro at him. 

He grimaced as he strode up the parched garden path and dared to inspect the  _ huge  _ bottle, “Likstro? You trying to kill me, Captain?” 

“You and your flight maneuvers need no help from me, Commander.” 

“Can’t argue with that, I guess.” He shrugged, grabbing the neck of the bottle and slipping past his friend into the house. 

The dregs of the festival were everywhere— every inch of the house was still covered in flowers and foliage, and the paint started to rub off of people’s faces and arms. Things had wound down to a slower pace as people cleared off back towards home, or stumbled off to bed. All those left had taken to the Dameron kitchen with glasses in hand. 

With a dramatic bang, he dropped the Likstro on the kitchen table, cleaned off from all Resistance-related datapads and transmission equipment. Jess set out three shot glasses that were just a  _ little  _ too big to be normal. And Snap dropped into the chair at the head of the table while Jess poured out the first of many glowing, radioactive-looking shots into their glasses. 

Poe grimaced. This was gonna be a long night. 

“What are you three up to?” a smirking voice came up behind him, and a familiar hand squeezed his shoulder. 

Leia was giving them all the gleaming look of someone who already knew what they were doing, but the flush in her cheeks was all Poe needed to know that she’d had a couple drinks as well. 

“Tradition demands to be observed, General.” Jess popped in with a mock salute. 

“Yup--” Snap contributed, “Gotta send off our fallen pilots.” 

Poe was tingling and warm from his ears to his toes, just making out the shapes of his blurry, giggling, tipsy friends through the half-light as he shot Leia a half a sad smile. His chest clenched painfully-- he saw Rey, Rose, and Finn hovering by the stairs, leaned against the wall. Finn threw his head back and laughed at something Rose said, and Poe’s breath caught. Luke and Dr. Kal stood in front of the photo-covered wall that documented their home, their lives. Kes and Qui’ana were cleaning the kitchen from the feast and the fires that had been put out hours ago. They moved around each other awkwardly in the small space, every once in a while stepping on a toe, or bumping into a shoulder. 

They were missing two. They were missing much more than two, but Lulo and Kare had left a gouged out hole in his chest--

“Poe.” 

Snap and Jess were already holding up their glasses, and he scrambled to grab his. 

“To Lulo and Kare-- let’s get kriffing wasted.” 

They clinked their glasses and threw back the bitter, slightly effervescent liquor in tandem, with Poe just barely managing it without a grimace. Snap all out choked, while Jess looked like she’d had nothing more than water. 

And so, the tradition commenced. 

Poe couldn’t remember when it started, exactly. It was something Snap had said after a mission one time, and it just stuck. He’d said, “The day this damn job kills me, I want you all to get wrecked in my honor-- one bottle, bunch of glasses, shot for shot.” 

It wasn’t until Oddy died that they actually found they had to do something. To remember him, even after all that had happened. Poe was the one who got out the glasses, the Likstro, had started the rounds. For every round of shots, each person had to tell a story about Oddy, a time he saved their ass, or a particularly funny memory from before things fell to shit… 

After that, it just kept happening. Whenever they lost someone, they’d eventually find their way to each other with glasses and a bottle of bantha shit liquor. 

Sometimes it took a long time. Sometimes it was months before they finally got to sit and remember their lost friends, but they’d make it happen. And what better day than Inund’aa? Poe’s gold painted face had been inscribed with their tiny, simplified ships, nestled between the galactic swirls of paint in the sunburst. 

“First thing I think of when I think of Lulo is that mission to find Lor San Tekka…” 

And they took turns from there. The three of them were the only ones left from their squadron, licking their wounds and missing the ghosts between them, until they weren’t crying and they weren’t sad. Poe was the first one to crack a smile, but Jess? Jess was the first one to all-out laugh. 

Shot, after shot, after shot-- they passed the bottle and swapped the craziest stories. The General even sat with them, all of them too loose to care if she heard something she shouldn’t. She even told them about how each of their friends came to the Resistance. She remembered them, too. 

The kitchen got warmer and blurrier, the center of gravity tilting until it was all but obsolete. Poe felt as if they were all just floating in the booze. 

“It was the one on Coruscant!” she cried out on the last shot, “With that corrupt senator who was so into Poe--” 

“The reason why Coruscant is a funny story instead of a tragedy is because Kare busted down the door to that fresher--”

“Hey, hey! I got the intel we needed!” Poe piped up, hands raised in surrender, “Never knew you to be the type to clutch your pearls, Wexley.” 

They were all slurring more than a little. Jess was cackling so hard, she had landed face down on the table. And none of them gave a single shit about the audience they’d gained-- in fact, Poe  _ might  _ admit to preening a little under the attention. 

That  _ might  _ have been obvious, considering the way Finn rolled his eyes. 

“I may or may not have gotten into a bit of a bind, but the senator went down for his connections to Terex!” he defended, until the stares of Snap and Jess got to be too much, “... and Kare totally saved my ass.” 

That sent everyone into peels of laughter, the whole kitchen erupting with hollers about Kare and half drowned out questions about what the hell was happening on Coruscant. Kes looked particularly green around the gills. 

“Are you forgetting the part where the Resistance had to buy you out of  _ concubinage  _ before you disappeared into the Outer Rim?” Leia’s dry chuckle broke into the din as she took another sip of her wine. “That’s an important part of the story, Dameron--” 

_ “WHAT?”  _

There was a chorus of cries that nearly deafened his ringing, drunk ears. Poe remembered it like it was yesterday--  _ getting captured, Kare breaking into the chambers where he was being held, the long hallway, the way he and Kare had to battle it out against ten First Order agents and bounty hunters trying to sell him off, breaking out in easily the oldest functioning escape pod Poe had ever seen-- _

“Aun’ Leia, you’re gonna give my dad a heart attack!” he giggled, “Dad, it’s not as bad as it sounds!” 

He wasn’t sure if it helped him or hurt him that he couldn’t stop laughing, or that Jess was saying, “Well, it definitely wasn’t lookin’ good or a minute there, Poe.” And then there was Snap, who was damn near unconscious. Poe kicked him under the table. He could really use some back up right then. 

Things went quiet for a moment, and that was the moment that Snap chose to rise from the dead, only to make things infinitely worse. 

“Di’ you jus’ call Th’ Gen’ral  _ Aunt Leia?” _

And he passed right back out on the kitchen table. 

Poe could have sworn his heart stopped. His jaw was slack, his eyes were wide, he could feel it but he couldn’t do a damn thing about it. 

“Did I?” 

Leia was smiling-- it was a soft, surprised thing, much softer than the raucous moments leading up to it. Much softer than her usual wry smirk. Her brown eyes even looked a little misty, but Poe figured that couldn’t be right. It must’ve been the Likstro, or the wine, or the insanely long and exhausting day they’d all had. 

She nodded. 

“Well, I mean… you were, once.” he felt more sober than he had in hours, swallowing his tongue. There were eyes on him from all sides, and his face felt hot, “I need some air.” 

The air in the garden was thick and heavy, but it still felt better than the suffocating gazes of his friends inside. His heart hammered in his chest, and he gripped the gate like it was the only thing anchoring him on-world. His mom’s tree glowed in the light of the moons, and he let himself deflate against the gate with a long sigh. 

The memories that he had of Aunt Leia and Uncle Han were scattered and strange. When he was a teenager, he nearly managed to convince himself that they had been dreams. But he knew he’d remembered right when he’d enlisted, met The General, and then again when he’d set foot in the Falcon for the first time. He used to play around with those gears before he even knew what he was messing with. He could hear Han’s gruff voice grumbling about thermocuplars and compressors… 

Sometimes, when he looked out the kitchen window-- the little one above the sink-- the memories of the last time the Falcon landed nearly overwhelmed him. The way Dad had stood rigid and trembling at the gate, and Luke with his hood up against the rain. 

Dad had told them all to never come back. 

“I thought you’d forgotten all about me.” there was a wet laugh in her tone, but he was too embarrassed to turn around and look at her. He could feel her, though, at the gate beside him, looking out at the jungle, the fields, and Force tree. 

Leia put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed, just like earlier, but so, so different. 

“I was eight-- it’s not like I was a baby or something.” he cleared his throat after his voice came out as a rasp. His tongue felt dry and fuzzy-- he hated Likstro. 

“I know, I just… you never said anything.” 

“I figured it might be a little unprofessional--” 

“Poe.” she cut him off, “I never stopped looking out for you. When Han came home and told me what happened… I tried to come to the funeral, I comm’d your father a thousand times.” 

He shook his head, incredulous and confused-- how could Dad do that to them? To him? 

He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed those presences growing up. How much he needed the laughter, and the stories, and the gruff voice-- 

“He was only trying to do right by you. Don’t put this all on him.” she said, her Force User X Ray vision scanning him up and down. “I missed you, Poe.” 

Her hand was cool on the back of his neck, compared to the steamy air of the Yavin night, and he finally brought himself to turn around and look at her. 

Tear tracks slipped on her cheeks, still rosy with the wine, but her eyes were clear and bright. 

“He never moved on. He never stopped blaming you-- mostly Luke, but…” 

“Yes, you’re right. Kes never forgave us entirely.” Her hand shifted from his neck, up into his long, unruly curls and pushed them off his forehead. “But-- I might have an idea.” 

There was a twinkle of mischief there that sparked in Poe’s chest, tugging up the corners of his lips into a smile. 

“Yeah?” 

She nodded, even shooting him a cheeky wink. “It’s about time your father and my brother finally cleared the air.” 

“So, what’s the plan, General?” 

Maybe it was the booze, or the exhausting day, or how much he hadn’t realized that he  _ missed  _ her-- but Poe had the feeling that things were all about to slide into place. 


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! Remember me? It's been so long! 
> 
> I'm sorry that this took so long-- I had to defer graduate school because of COVID, and I thought I was handling it pretty well, but then I had pretty much an ENTIRE existential crisis. I lost interest in just about every part of my life. It's very rare that my depression effects my writing-- if anything, it usually makes me write more-- but it really got me these past few weeks. I'm back, though! And to keep this happening again, I'm making a little plan: 
> 
> I'm going to take a few weeks before I start posting the ROS rewrite. I want to write the first few chapters out before I start posting it, so if I end up feeling low again, I'll have a few chapters that I can post while getting myself back together. <3 I love writing this series. I've come too far to let my mental illness get in the way. 
> 
> This is the LAST CHAPTER of Going Underground! Thank you, thank you, thank you for sticking around, for commenting, for telling your friends-- you folks are the most wonderful people. You keep this going, and I'm so grateful to you all <3 
> 
> This chapter is long, and it's sad, but it's so cathartic and necessary. Parts of it will sound like I'm flaming Luke, but I'm not haha it's just because it's from Kes's POV and he's really hurting. I hope you like it! Please let me know if you do!

_“HEY DAMERON!”_

_It always came from all the way down the hangar, echoing. He’d hang out in the cavernous space, loitering around the ships and the droids until he inevitably caught her eye again._

_Part of him was still convinced she called him_ Dameron _because she couldn’t remember his name. Sometimes he was surprised she didn’t call him_ Pair of hands that helps me with my ship _. After all, that was really the only way they actually knew each other._

_That was what he told himself in order to contain the sudden swoop of butterflies in his gut whenever he thought of Shara._

_That day, the skies at the edge of the Yavin base were stormy and dark with the coming monsoon-- the last monsoon before the Rebellion moved along. He didn’t know if he’d ever come home, and swallowed around the lump in his throat._

_He wasn’t scared. Not at the thought of dying, at least. But of never coming back home? To these jungles and mountains and streams? The people of his community--_

_Kes shook his head at the invading thoughts-- there was no point in worrying. Not now. Instead of worrying, just like every other day, he found himself loitering at the threshold of the hangar. Waiting for that voice. He hoped and prayed to any deity in the Force that he’d hear her calling, passing the time by pretending to work on an R2 unit just for something to do._

_He waited._

_There was barely a soul in the hangar, but he still waited, and she still called to him._

_He chuckled, unable to help his grin as he jogged down the duracrete to see Shara’s legs sticking out from under her battered old A Wing._

_“You always scream like you’re dying, not in need of a wrench.”_

_“How else am I supposed to drag you away from your important work over there?” There was a grin from the voice under the hood._

_“You could whisper for me and I’d find you.”_

_It slipped out. Really-- he said the words before he could think beyond the basics of it all. How the one curl was probably falling out of her braid, and her hands would be smudged with engine grease._

_The entire base seemed to go still while the beat of his heart jumped into his throat._

_The sound of Shara sliding out from under the ship let out a_ swoosh _that was somehow deafening, making his knees weak with the absolute terror. He had ruined it, he must have. Her eyes were wide, staring up at him like he’d been injured in battle, not embarrassed himself in front of a beautiful woman._

_But her smile stayed easy as it ever was, something incredulous in her pretty face making her jaw a little slack._

_He didn’t know what he hoped for— recognition or invisibility. He was under no false impressions about how bad he was at hiding his crush, and it wasn’t as if they didn’t flirt a little, here and there, but…_

_“Pass me that cap? For the power converter?” She finally broke the quiet, pointing toward the case of parts. She sounded almost shy-- or conspiratorial. Not that he ever would’ve noticed. If he’d had more of his wits about him, Kes would’ve seen that the case was well within her reach._

_She didn’t_ need _him to get it. She just_ wanted _him there, by her side on the tarmac with that dumb blush in his cheeks, his lips pressed firmly together._

_But he was just so happy to have their moment carry on past his stupid, big mouth, that he jolted into action, kneeling down by Shara’s side as she pulled herself up to sit on the duracrete._

_She was close enough that their shoulders brushed, and he felt his cheeks getting hot as he picked up the metal piece. He didn’t look up as he handed it to her, unable to meet her gaze even though he could feel her eyes burning into him. Their fingers brushed over the delicate part, sending his heart up to his ears, beating so kriffing loudly that he barely heard the soft sound of Shara breaking the silence._

_“Kes?”_

_Thunder rumbled and the air felt thick around them-- the telltale signs of the monsoon-- but Kes had goosebumps as he heard her voice close beside him._

_Shara smiled like she was keeping a secret when he met her gaze, close enough to see the thin pink line of the scar through her brow and the gold in her brown eyes. He watched her bite her lip, grinning like she’d discovered something._

_She had_ whispered _his name._

_He couldn’t find the words to speak, his pulse pounding and his breath catching in his throat when she closed the distance between them. Her lips were soft, and the kiss was tender and dry, his mouth guided to her’s by her hand on his jaw. There would be a smudge of engine grease there after this, but Kes already knew that he’d wear it like a badge of honor._

_Outside, the clouds opened and the rain poured down into the jungle._

There was a deep rumbling above him that forced him to open his eyes. His hand was splayed out onto “Shara’s side of the bed”— at least, it would be if he was in their bed.   
  
Instead, his arm hung over the edge of the metal frame of the cot where he slept in the cellar beneath his house. He was always on call to his fighters, his kids, through the tunnel system.   
  
He wouldn’t let them think that he was living any more comfortably than them— so he slept down here, while his own room and every other was given up to the injured or weak.   
  
His hand flexed around thin air where he used to clutch a small metal cap for a power converter… His fingers had brushed against hers as he handed the piece to her, and his heart had squeezed in his chest. There had been so much electricity there, building in the heavy, monsoon atmosphere of the hangar, and Shara had been smiling at him. Her eyes sparkled when she whispered his name and pulled him out of his head, into reality—   
  
And now he closed his hand around empty air.   
  
His stomach ached like a black hole had opened in his gut, threatening to crush him down into dust under the weight of his grief. 

Grief was such a fickle thing. There were times when Kes could go weeks or months at a time with nothing more than a scabbed over wound from Shara’s absence. It still ached, like the blaster scar embedded in his side, but was also a strange sort of comfort. He could feel her there-- her constant presence in the garden, her smile in photos on the wall, her sense of adventure lying dormant in the cockpit of that A Wing where it was gathering dust in the barn. During these times, he could feel her without being crippled by it. 

And then there were the days from the peak of the dry season to the breaking of the clouds. The hardest time of year. The closer the year inched toward the anniversary of losing her, the more her presence felt like a haunting. The more the house that they shared felt like a curse, with his memories of her wandering the halls. The more the galaxy felt cold and empty, and the ways that things could’ve been _better_ echoed through his mind. 

If she would have only been comfortable to let someone else build the New Republic. Then they could have just had their home and protected their own… 

If he had only been able to stop her from flying away… 

If _Luke Skywalker_ had asked anyone else for that _last mission_ \-- and wasn’t there always just one more?

There was another rumbling from the world above. 

After all these years, grief still made him bitter. Shara would roll her eyes and force him to look at it all logically, to stop being so melodramatic. At least, she would if she were there.

He sighed, scrubbing a hand down his face as he heaved his creaking bones up to standing. 

_Well, if there was ever a day to just get it over with, this is it_ , he thought to himself, hissing out a long breath between his teeth. _Just get through your meetings, ignore Leia’s looks— you can lose the rest of your day in the garden._ He planned it all out, as if he didn’t know in his bones that the weather wouldn’t hold out. He could feel the rains coming. His old blaster scar was sore. His bones ached like an old man’s ought to.   
  
The monsoon was coming early, and it was coming hard. With his hand still tingling under the memory of his wife’s touch, he sent up a quick prayer of thanks to the family. If they hadn’t gotten through Inun’daa when they did, they’d have a major flood risk on their hands.   
  
As if they needed one more thing to worry about in this kriffing war.   
  
Kes swallowed hard, and told himself they’d win. That they’d make it right this time.   
  
If they didn’t, what was the point? Of any of it? Of all the death and destruction, the explosion of Alderaan and the Hosnian system? What did Han die for? What did Shara...   
  
It was time to get started, in case the rain got too far ahead of them. 

* * *

The house’s command center was less bustling than he’d braced himself for as he finally pulled himself up through the tunnels and into the waking world. Rose and the Doc were perched in the kitchen, going over another supply list or something. There was no sign of Rey, who had been getting more reserved, yet again. Poe was barely able to bite his tongue on how _he_ felt about that, but Kes had a bad feeling about it all. It made his heart clench in his chest to think about it. She had such sad eyes— so different for the young girl who’d sauntered down from the Falcon all those months ago, carrying Kes away to join yet another revolution. 

There was no sign of Leia or Luke, either. And if Rey’s absence concerned him, the General and the Jedi’s flooded him with relief. There was less to hide when they weren’t around. The fear that had settled itself in his gut didn’t need to be hidden so carefully without Leia’s discerning gaze. Kes didn’t need to hide from her _Force User X Ray Vision._

And then there was Skywalker. The wild, roiling anger that Skywalker lit up in him was so much calmer when the Jedi wasn’t physically there. Wasn’t hovering in the background, watching and waiting— he disappeared for how long? And came back as if he was the only person who could save the galaxy. _Again_. 

_Because that worked so well the first time,_ he griped to himself, shaking his head as he poured himself a cup of caf. He muttered greetings to the ladies in the kitchen, trading tired smiles with Kal. If her answering eyebrow raise was any indication, his halfhearted tip of his lips looked as labored as it felt. 

Finn was deep in conversation with the holo of Lando at the kitchen table, his own cup of caf sending steam up in tendrils around his face. He was entirely still as he listened to the latest news on Ren and the First Order, his jaw clenched and his eyes starting to regain a little of that puffy exhaustion that he’d worked so hard to get rid of over the past months. 

But closure can only do so much, and festivals always have an end-- the only thing left after those things fade is reality, and Kes knew intimately how reality can leave you puffy-eyed and tense. Especially now, with the war looming in the near distance, Ren skulking around the Outer Rim, and some mysterious gang causing these disturbances in the Force that Luke couldn’t stop talking about… 

No one had mentioned yet that Palpatine’s death was so greatly exaggerated. That Luke had failed so completely, and Vader’s last sacrifice was moot. All the morale that they’d worked so hard for after the Ambush would evaporate, and the galaxy would be lost before it could be won. 

_Maybe it’s already lost. If the Only Hope of the galaxy had already failed and the Old Republic prophecies were broken-- what chance did they have?_ He sipped his caf while it was still hot enough to burn, relishing the painful heat. It grounded him back into _home--_ the rug under his feet, the heavy air about to burst into a downpour outside the garden window, the familiar sound of his old friend’s voice crackling through the transmission to Finn. 

If they didn’t have hope, they had nothing. If they didn’t fight, no one would. Shara had always done that. She had faith in the Force, in defending future generations-- she had hope. She trusted Luke Skywalker to set the galaxy to rights… 

_And look where it got her._

Kes looked out the window to the garden gate, past his lands and into the jungle. There, the canopy in the distance was swaying and bowing under the hot wind of the coming storm. The clouds were rolling in fast, looking more like waves of a tumultuous sea overhead. 

The flowers and shrubs in the garden were ruffled, their parched leaves chattering and crunching against each other-- he could hear it, even inside the still safety of the kitchen. 

He looked out and saw the place where the Falcon had landed for the last time, all those years ago. He had been standing at that gate with his hand on Poe’s shoulder on the first day of the monsoon. Solo and Skywalker had landed, but Kes could feel the change in the air. Their faces were drawn and their steps were slow and heavy. 

He felt his son’s heartbeat under his hand where he gripped his bony little shoulder. It was fast and hard. Poe knew something was wrong-- he was stronger with the Force than Kes, and even he knew… He had felt it days ago. There was a shift in his gut, like the earth under his feet had tilted, sending him off balance-- 

“--es? Kes?” a voice broke into his memories. He turned to see Finn’s intelligent eyes scanning over him, the transmission turned off. “Are you good?” 

_Nope._ he thought, popping the p in his head. _No, I’m definitely not._

He tried a reassuring smile on for size, but Finn wasn’t fooled. 

He just continued to look at him for a long moment, and Kes was an idiot if he thought he could avoid _Force User X Ray Vision_ today, or any other day. 

“I’m fine, Kiddo. Long night, that’s all.” he shrugged, “You don’t look much better. Anything you wanna talk about?” 

It was hypocritical, he knew that. Call it a habit-- he was a dad before all else. 

Finn definitely looked a little ragged, but his gaze was sharp and the ghost of a smile on his lips was wry. He looked like Leia, and Kes barely held back his eye roll and sigh. The gears were turning behind the young man’s eyes, and he fiddled with the small band around his neck. 

The sight of it sent the first genuine sense of joy through him that he’d felt all morning. His heart clenched in his chest as Finn’s fingers traced the edges of Shara’s ring. 

At least one thing was right in this damned galaxy, and it was this. Whatever it meant between Finn and Poe, it was the right place for that ring to be, even if it left Kes feeling a little bare. 

He didn’t have much hope left for the galaxy, and he sure as Hell didn’t trust Luke Skywalker to save it, but with these kids? They just might stand a chance. 

“You’re deflecting. You and Poe have more in common than either of you are willing to admit.” he chuckled and rolled his eyes, but he didn’t press further, “I was _saying_ that Poe mentioned wanting to talk to you when you got up-- he’s down by the barn, when you get a sec.” 

There was something in his voice when he said it that Kes couldn’t place. If half of his headspace wasn’t still out at the garden gate, waiting for Luke Skywalker to ruin his life, he would’ve noticed the way Finn shifted in his seat, sitting a little straighter. If he spent as much time around the younger man as his son did, he might’ve known the way Finn fiddled restlessly with his ring when he was nervous—

But he was too relieved to have something to do that wasn’t dwell on the future of The Resistance, or getting lost in the memories of his dead wife. Nodding, he stood and swallowed the rest of his caf. 

He left Finn to his own steaming cup and tired thoughts, being sure to squeeze him on the shoulder as he passed by. Hope was only as good as the people you shared it with, and Finn looked like he could use it. Stars knew that Kes did. 

* * *

The breeze buffeted against him as the dark clouds rumbled again. The grasses of Dameron Fields were flattened by the force of it every once in a while— the start of the storm was bound to be a doozy. The air was thick and hot, vapor sticking his clothes to his skin. 

Whatever Poe needed, it better be important. 

With his hands shoved in his pockets and his shoulders hunched against the coming weather, Kes took a deep breath of the air. It tasted like ozone and sunbaked dirt, and he took a deep breath to steady himself 

He caught himself running his thumb over the thick metal of his own wedding ring, memories tumbling over each other-- all of them associated exclusively with the first day of the monsoon. 

There was the first time Shara kissed him. Her whispered declaration of his name had been nearly swallowed by the thunder, and the clouds broke just as she pulled him in close. 

There was the day they were married. 

It was tradition to marry in the wet season-- it meant fertility and good harvests and good _luck_. Kes bit his cheek against the scoff that bubbled up from the bitter place in his heart. Or was that a sob? His heart ached. 

They had been married on the first day they could, the moment the rain started to fall. He had gripped her hand and led the way through the winding trails between the temples, to the base of the mountain. They were out of breath, grinning like maniacs, ready to jump on each other by the time they reached the cave. 

He told her he’d protect her. He told her he’d _love_ her, unconditionally. He slid that ring on her calloused mechanic's finger, and he promised her that he would _never try to cage what belonged in the sky._

_“And I promise, Kes Dameron, that no matter how far I fly-- you will always be where I land.”_

That was what she’d said, with the patter of the rain falling in the background, echoing around them. 

Then, there was the worst day. The day he felt the first drops of the storm on his cheeks where he stood, rooted into the ground at the garden gate. He sent Poe into the house. He swallowed the bile in his dry, tight throat, and he gripped the top of the gate, willing himself to stay standing. Luke Skywalker stood in front of him, trying to _explain._

Kes wasn’t sure he’d heard a word of it.

He followed him to the Falcon through the tall grass of the fields, feeling like his feet were made of duracrete. Scattered droplets of rain started to fall from the low hanging, dark clouds-- 

In the present, a fresh roll of thunder spread across the sky and shook the ground under his feet. The barn was in view, and his eyes were swimming like Shara had only died yesterday. As if every single day of the past 22 years had been some sort of horrid dream that he’d have to live all over again now. 

22 years ago, he’d had to run through the downpour to the barn. He had to run to Poe, only to find his little hands clasped around a wrench, bashing in every inch of that old, treasured A Wing. His huge brown eyes were streaming, his cheeks flushed, ragged sobs tearing out of his throat as he landed blow after blow. 

Kes had caught his wrist and wrestled the wrench away. He had pulled his son in against his chest and held him tight, until his sobs were whimpers, and his angry shouts were nothing more than hiccups. 

He hated the first day of the monsoon. He hated the wet season. It always brought out the worst in him. 

The barn door crept up on him, and he nearly ran into it. He shook his head and blinked the tears out of his eyes, taking the deepest breath that he’d taken all day. He scrubbed a hand down his face and braced himself to deflect whatever his son-- his grown, perceptive, force-sensitive son-- was bound to notice about him today. 

He swung open the door, and stepped in from the wind. 

It smelled like engine grease and incense, humid air and dust. Just like it always did. The A Wing, all fixed up and as beautiful as the first day he’d seen it, was sat in the center. All around were thousands of pieces and parts-- bits and bobs smuggled in at the bottom of the baskets brought in for Inun’daa, or from Poe’s own stash of disassembled speeders and ships. 

The only thing out of the ordinary was that there was nobody there. Even Poe’s usual mumbled chatter was absent, leaving the space eerily silent. 

“Poe!” he called out, “Kiddo, what did you need?” 

Three important things all happened at once-- things that told Kes that he was not going to escape through this day without something taking it from bad to worse. 

First, a figure stepped out of the shadows, out from behind the A Wing. He wore a familiar long, deep brown cloak, fraying at the edges. Piercing blue eyes looked out with a rueful smile from under the hood, and a deep-seated wave of rage rippled through his veins, sending a flash of red into his gaze. 

Just as his mind caught up, he heard the creak of the closing door behind him. He whirled around to see the last bit of a curly head of hair, a slightly grayed bun tied at the nape of a collar he knew. 

“Sorry Dad!” Poe shouted through the wood of the door, and a lock slid and clicked into place. 

“POE!” he immediately called back, taking three steps forward and stuttering to a stop. “LEIA! Open this door-- we have a war to win, we don’t have time for games!” 

“You’re right.” Luke finally spoke up from behind him, and he couldn’t help the urge to turn-- to see _Jedi Master Luke Skywalker_ admit that he was right. “We have a war to win, and we can’t win it while we’re fighting each other.” 

“I’m not _fighting_ with you, Luke.” he spat back, in a way that absolutely sounded like he was fighting with him. 

“Then what _have_ you been doing?” he spread his arms wide in a hapless, sweeping gesture, “All these weeks here? We can’t lead if we can’t even look each other in the eye.” 

“Use the Force to open this door right now--”

“No.” he was so quiet, so _infuriatingly_ calm, “We’ve been putting off this conversation for too long--”

“And what is this conversation?” he scoffed, digging his heels into the dusty floor of the barn as if Luke would ever try to fight him-- “Is there anything left to discuss?” 

“If there wasn’t, we wouldn’t be here. I can feel your anger, Kes, it’s all around you.” 

His blood pounded in his ears, but the barn was deathly silent-- the wind battered the walls, but the humid, heavy air on the brink of the storm was still and tense inside the space. 22 years of bitter anger-- of burials, war wounds, a man without a partner and a little boy without a mother… 

“What d’you want to say to me, Kes? Say it out loud.” 

And with it all laid out in front of him-- with a kriffing _invitation--_ suddenly he couldn’t find the words. They had been friends once. Once, he and Shara had flown together. He and Han had teased Kes for going to war just to pick up chicks. They had celebrated a war well-won, they had celebrated his wedding, his baby. And then again, fought the Dark Side right in their own jungles. All of that, just for them to have to fight all over again, just for him to take her away…

“Shara’s dead, Luke.” even after all these years, he choked around the words, “There’s no going back, there’s no fixing this-- she was out! She wanted to be home! After she was injured on Naboo, she was trying to relax for once, realizing that she didn’t have to fight all the kriffing time-- but then you came in and asked for _one last mission!”_ he wasn’t sure when he started yelling, but he knew he was. His voice echoed off the walls and his breath was hoarse-- it was as if a dam broke, and he was so frenzied trying to say it all that he barely knew if he made sense. 

“The _great jedi master_ Luke Skywalker,” he growled, “after all your training, you were just as useless as any other private. You might as well have killed her yourself-- you begged her to join this last mission, tried to tell her that it wouldn’t be too dangerous, and then you didn't use a damn scrap of your _great training_ to keep her safe!” shouts were starting to sound more like sobs, and he could barely see the other man through his haze of tears and red hot rage. He shook his head like he still couldn’t believe it all. He blinked to clear his eyes and balled his hands into fists against his trembling. 

“You didn’t see her after Naboo, Luke.” he took a deep breath and forced out the words, “The nightmares, the agonizingly slow healing-- she knew she’d nearly died. Night after night I woke up alone, only to fi-find her in Poe’s bed, curled around him like she was _just_ holding on…” he trailed off, voice cracking, and his knees couldn’t hold him anymore. He leaned himself on the base of the A Wing, feeling the smooth metal under his hands for a moment before he spoke again. “Y-you took it all away from her… she wanted to grow old, she wanted more kids, she was finally learning how to _rest…_ You took that from her, by being selfish and arrogant-- You took a mother from her child, and a w-wife from her husband, and a woman from all _the life that she was supposed to have_ . Sometimes being alone was _so hard_ , but I’m still glad that I sent you away when I did… Shara would’ve wanted it.”

The words barely had the time to settle before a clap of thunder shook the roof. He could feel Luke’s piercing gaze on him-- what now? Had he done it right? Would they let him out? Kriff, he was tired… 

“Would’ve _wanted_ it?” the Jedi finally said, echoing his own words back to him, “We wanted to be there for you--”

“You had done enough!”

“Then just send me away! You didn’t have to loop Han and Leia into it all-- she was devastated, Kes. To be barred from her friend’s own funeral? To never be able to see Poe again? Leia tried to contact you time after time--” 

Kes only shook his head, a pang of sympathy for Leia lancing through his heart. He had his regrets, he wasn’t heartless… 

“Kes-- Kes, listen to me--” Luke moved, coming to stand right in front of him, and Kes wasn’t prepared for the wave of trapped, desperate anger that swept through him.

“I had to protect my son--” 

“From _what?”_ he cried, finally losing that endless patience.

“FROM YOU!” he leapt to his feet, getting right in Luke’s face. This time, Kes didn’t let the dust settle on his words-- he couldn’t let this lie anymore. “From you and your Jedi school, the way you studied my boy like he was the next _great prophecy_ for some shit-- I didn’t fight that war so you could restart the old ways. Shara and I fought to give kids like Poe a chance in this damn galaxy! And when we started seeing his strength with the Force… it was Shara’s idea to hide it.” 

That was what sent the Jedi stumbling back a step. 

“And after she died, I sent you away. I couldn’t risk you trying to take him too--” 

“You really think that I would take your son? Without permission from you, or discussing his choices with him--” 

“Yes, I did and I still do. So did Shara.” he replied, deadly calm, his voice clipped and cold. 

Luke scrubbed a hand down his face-- he looked like he’d been slapped. “I… I’ve made my mistakes, Kes, but I would never do that. I-I was training Shara! Before Naboo, she was--”

“There’s a difference between training a grown woman and manipulating an eight year old boy--” 

“I would _never_ do that!” he snapped, holding his gaze with fierce blue eyes for a long moment before he deflated. 

_When did we get so old?_ Kes sighed, deflating a little himself, looking at this man. He was so weathered and gray, hunched with the weight of all that he’d done. _And all that he hadn’t done._

“I couldn’t take that chance, Luke.” he finally mumbled, his voice little more than a croak. “Especially after losing Shara, I couldn’t risk being alone. Poe was all I had--”

“You had us.” 

“I couldn’t even look at you. And, by the time I was even willing to consider it, you’d disappeared into exile and another war was on the horizon. It was like reopening every wound I got from the Empire-- and Poe was trying to fly away, trying to go to the Academy and the Starfleet.” the chuckle that bubbled out of him was wet with tears, the mental image of his indignant teenage son swimming up in his mind’s eye. His eyes were wide and round, flecked with gold like his mother’s. His feet and hands were too big for his skinny body, like a puppy growing into their paws. 

He had been so scared. Poe had been so determined to leave him, to go fight _for what was right._

“He’s too much like his mother.” 

“Or maybe just enough like her.” Luke replied, and Kes was startled into meeting his gaze. He hadn’t realized that he’d said that out loud. At some point while he was lost in thought, they’d ended up sitting side by side on the base of the A Wing, leaning against the joint of the wing. “He’s a lot like you, too.” 

“Is that so?” 

“Believe it or not, I knew you pretty well at one point.” For some reason, _that_ stung deeper than anything else. Kes managed a wry smile, a hundred memories of missions and battles and victories bringing tears to his eyes. “Poe fights to protect the things he loves-- not because he wants to fight. He wants to save everyone, he wants to carry the load so others don’t have to. In his mind, there’s always a way to get everyone out… but sometimes, there’s not. Sometimes it’s too late, or you miss that one crucial thing--” 

Kes could feel it coming-- the _explanation--_ and he tensed, the thunder rumbling and a cold bitterness welling up from that place in his gut-- 

But Luke shot out a hand and squeezed his own, gripping his knuckles like he was about to fall into an abyss “Please, listen to me. _Please_.” 

And Kes stayed. 

“Shara was nearly a master when Naboo changed everything. She was stronger than she knew.” he sighed, “When Leia had Ben, and we were a person short for that last mission on Bespin, I didn’t even consider a single other person before reaching out to her-- I wanted to work with her again, I won’t lie. I wanted one more chance to convince her to finish her training… But when we were in that crowd, protecting that ambassador, I felt the ripple in the Force-- I knew something bad was going to happen, and she could feel it, too.”

“What’s your point, Luke?” he hissed, already knowing the answer. He’d known it for 22 years, somewhere deep inside him. But he wasn’t sure he could survive hearing it straight from the source. His hands trembled and a single tear burned a track down his cheek. 

“She made a choice. We _both_ felt it too late-- I was too far away, and there were only two options. She could protect the ambassador and stand in front of the blast, or she could let the ambassador die and unravel the galaxy into another war.” 

“For Shara, that’s no choice…” Kes rasped. 

Luke gave his own strangled chuckle. “No, it’s not. She knew what she had to do, and she did it. She looked right at me, Kes-- she _knew_. And she said goodbye.” 

The pressure in the barn-- the humidity and the heat from the coming storm, ready to snap-- and the tight, dryness of the sob climbing his throat both burst at the same time. The raindrops pattered the roof, and a ragged sound ripped through him into the still air. 

“We were friends once, Kes.” Luke murmured, his voice barely a whisper over the downpour, “We don’t have to be again, I-I understand. But we can’t win this war if we can’t trust each other.” 

He trembled, hunched over from the crushing gravity of his grief, like a black hole in his gut. He had promised her that he would let her fly, but so far? For so long? To hear it said out loud, and to know that she chose what she did. 

Sometimes, he just couldn’t accept the mistakes of others. 

Sometimes, trusting someone else to fly and come back was a harder promise to keep than he wanted to admit. 

He finally turned his hand in his old friend’s grasp, and held him back. He didn’t need to be Force-sensitive to feel the way the room went lax. Luke let out a long sigh like the weight of a whole star system had been lifted from his shoulders. And, for all his pain, Kes found that he felt lighter-- and more hopeful-- than before, too. 


End file.
